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V 

N O E M I 


EVE, 


by • 

Sy BARING-GOULD 


AUTHOR CE 

RED SPIDER, LITTLE TU’PENNY, GABRIELLE ANDRE, 


ETC. 



NEW YORK 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

1894 





Copyright, 1894 , 

By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 


T* 


COI^TEiq-TS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — The Stair Perilous 1 

II. — Who is the Fool now? 11 

III. — The Wolves out 22 

IV. — In Nomine Beelzebub 32 

V. — Raising the Ransom 43 

VI. — The Jew 53 

VII. — The New Companion 62 

VIII. — In the Devil’s Cups 73 

IX. — A Singed Glove ....... 84 

X. — By Fire 95 

XI. — The Ten Crosses 106 

XII. — Three Crosses 116 

XIII. — The End of L’Eglise Guillem .... 125 

XIV. — The Battle of the Beune . . . .132 

XV. — A Threatened Horror 143 

XVI. — Vade in Pace 153 

XVII. — In the Raven’s Nest 165 

XVIII. — In the Depths ....... 174 

XIX.— A Night Ride 185 

XX. — The Ring 194 

XXI.— A Disappearance 207 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXII.— The Castellan 216 

XXIIL— In the Hail 227 

XXIV. — The Fourth Time . . ... . . 238 

XXV. — A Helebore Wreath 249 

XXVI. — The Eleventh Cross 260 


N O E M I. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE STAIR PERILOUS. 

Jeah del’ Peyra was standing scraping a staff 
to form a lance-shaft. The sun shone hot upon him, 
and at his feet lay his shadow as a blot. 

He was too much engrossed in his work to look 
about him, till he heard a voice' call from somewhere 
above his head — 

“ Out of the way, clown ! ” 

Then there crashed down by him a log of wood 
that rolled to his feet and was followed by another 
piece. 

Now only did Jean look up, and what he saw made 
him drop his half -finished shaft and forget it. What 
Jean saw was this : a girl at some distance above him 
on the face of the rock, swaying a long-handled ham- 
mer, with which she was striking at, and dislodging, 
the steps by which she had ascended, and by means of 
which alone could she return. 

The cliff was of white limestone, or rather chalk, 
1 


NOEMI. 


2 ^ 

not such as Dover headlands are composed of, and 
which have given their name to Albion, but infinitely 
more compact and hard, though scarcely less white. 
The appearance of the stone was that of fine-grained 
white limestone. A modern geologist peering among 
its fossils would say it was chalk. But the period of 
this tale far antedates the hatching out of the first 
geologist. 

The cliff was that of La Roque Gageac, that shoots 
up from the Dordogne to the height of four hundred 
and sixty feet above the river. The lower portion is, 
however, not perpendicular ; it consists of a series of 
ledges and rapid inclines, on which stands clustered, 
clinging to the rock, the town of Gageac. But two 
thirds of the height is not merely a sheer precipice, 
it overhangs. Half-way up this sheer precipice the 
weather has gnawed into the rock, where was a bed of 
softer stone, forming a horizontal cavern, open to the 
wind and rain, with a roof extending some forty feet, 
unsupported, above the hard bed that served as floor. 

At some time unknown a stair had been contrived 
in the face of the rock, to reach this terrace a hun- 
dred feet above the roofs of the houses below; and 
then a castle had been built in the cave, consisting of 
towers and guard-rooms, halls and kitchens; a well 
had been sunk in the heart of the mountain, and this 
impregnable fastness had been made into a habitation 
for man. 


THE STAIR PERILOUS. 


3 


It could be reached in but one way, by the stair 
from below. It could not be reached from above, for 
the rock overhung the castle walls. 

But the stair itself was a perilous path, and its 
construction a work of ingenuity. To make the po- 
sition — the eagle nest in the rock — absolutely inacces- 
sible to an enemy, the stair had been contrived so 
that it could be wrecked by those flying up it, with 
facility, and that thereby they might cut off possibility 
of pursuit. 

The method adopted was this. 

Holes had been bored into the rock-face in grad- 
ual ascent from the platform at the foot of the rock 
to the gate-tower of the castle, nestled on the plat- 
form in the precipice. In each such hole a balk or 
billet of wood was planted, sliced away below where it 
entered, and this end was then made fast by a wedge 
driven in under it. From each step, when once se- 
cured, that above it could next be made firm. To 
release the steps a tap from underneath sufficed to 
loosen the wedge and send it and the balk it sup- 
ported clattering down. 

And now the girl was striking away these steps. 
What was her purpose? Had she considered what 
she was doing ? To destroy the means of ascent was 
easy enough ; to replace it a labour exacting time and 
patience. Was she a fool? was she mad? 

There was some method in her madness, for she 


4 


no^:mi. 


had not knocked away a succession of steps, but two 
only, with one left in position between. 

“’Ware, fool!” 

And down the face of the rock and clattering to 
his feet fell a third. 

This was too much. 

Jean ran to the foot of the stair and hastened up 
it till he reached the gap. Further he could not pro- 
ceed — a step had been dislodged ; the next remained 
intact. Then came another break, a second step in 
place, and then the third break. Above that stood 
the girl, swinging the long-handled mallet with which 
she had loosened the wedges and struck down the 
steps they held up. She was a handsome girl with 
dusky skin, but warm with blood under it, dark loose 
hair, and large deep brown eyes. She stood, athletic, 
graceful, poised on her stage, swaying the hammer, 
looking defiantly, insolently, at the youth, with lips 
half open and pouting. 

“Do you know what you are about, madcap ? ” 
said he. 

“ Perfectly. Making you keep your distance, 
fool.” 

“ Keep distance ! ” said the youth. “ I had no 
thought of you. I was not pursuing you — I did not 
know you were here ! ” 

“ And now I have woke you to see me.” 

“What of that? You had acted like a mad 


THE STAIR PERILOUS. 


5 


thing. I cannot help you, I cannot leap to you. 
Nothing would make me do so.” 

“ Nothing ? Not if I said, ‘ Come, assist me 
down ’ ? ” 

“ I could not leap the space. See you — if one step 
only were thrown down I might venture, hut not 
when every alternate one between us is missing. To 
leap up were to ensure my fall afc the next gap.” 

“ I do not need your help. I can descend. I can 
spring from one step to the next over the gaps.” 

“ And risk a fall and a broken neck ? ” 

“ Then there is one madcap the less in this world.” 

“ For what have you done this ? ” 

“ A prank.” 

“ A prank ! Yes ; but to replace the steps takes 
time and pains.” 

“ I shall expend neither on them.” 

“ It will give trouble to others.” 

“ If it amuses me, what care I ? ” 

The young man looked at the strange girl with 
perplexity. 

“ If every peg of wood were away,” said she, “ I 
could yet descend.” 

“ How ? Are you a bird — can you fly ? Not a cat, 
not a squirrel could run up or down this rock.” 

“ Fool ! I should slip down by the rope. Do you 
not know that there is a windlass ? Do you suppose 
they take their kegs of wine, their meat, their bread. 


6 


NO^lMI. 


their fuel up this spider stair ? I tell you that there 
is a rope, and at the end of it a bar of wood. They 
let this down and bring up what they want affixed to 
the bar. At pleasure, any man may go up or down 
that way. Do you not see? It must be so. If they 
were fast and all the ladders were gone, how should 
they ever descend ? Why, they could not mend the 
stairs from aloft. It must be done step by step from 
below. Do you see that, fool ? ” 

“ I see that perfectly.” 

“Very well; I have but to run up, make love to 
the custodian, and he would swing me down. There ; 
it is easy done ! ” 

“ You had best cast down the hammer and let me 
replace the steps.” ^ 

“ I’ll come down without them and without a rope. 
I can leap. If I cannot creep up as a cat, I can 
spring down like one — aye ! and like a squirrel, too, 
from one lodging place to another. Stand back and 
see me.” 

“ Stay ! ” said Jean. “ Why run the risk when not 
needed ? ” 

“ Because I like the risk — it is pepper and mus- 
tard to my meat of life. Stand back, clown, or I will 
spring and strike you over — and down you go and 
crack your foolish pate.” 

“ If I go — you go also — do you not see that ? ” 

“ Look aloft ! ” said the girl. “ Up in that nest — 


THE STAIR PERILOUS. 


whenever the English are about, up goes into it the 
Bishop of Sarlat, and he takes with him all his treas- 
ure, his gold cups and patens, his shrines for holy 
bones all set with gems, and his bags of coin. There 
he sits like an old grey owl, Towhit ! towhoo — towhit ! 
towhoo ! and he looks out this way, that — to see where 
houses are burning and smoke rises, and when at 
night the whole world is besprent with red fires — as 
the sky is with stars, where farms and homesteads are 
burning. And he says ‘ Towhit ! towhoo ! I have my 
cups and my patens and my coin-bags, and my dear 
little holy bones, all safe here. Towhit ! towhoo ! 
And best of all — I am safe — my unholy old bones 
also, whoo ! whoo ! whoo ! Nobody can touch me — 
whoo ! whoo ! whoo ! ’ ” 

“ Is he there now ? ” 

“ No, he is not. There is no immediate danger. 
Only a few as guard, that is all. If I were a man. I’d 
take the place and smoke the old owl out, and rob 
him of his plunder. I’d keep the shrines, and throw 
the holy rubbish away ! ” 

“ How would you do that ? ” 

“ I have been considering. I’d be let down over 
the edge of the cliff and throw in fireballs, till I had 
set the castle blazing.” 

“ And then ?” 

“ Then I’d have grappling-irons and crook them 
to the walls, and swing in under the ledge, and leap 


8 


no^:mi. 


on the top of the battlements, and the place would 
fall. I’d cast the old bishop out if he would not go, 
and carry off all his cups and shrines and coin.” 

“ It would be sacrilege ! ” 

“ Bah I What care I?” Then, after enjoying the 
astonishment of the lad, she said : “ With two or 
three bold spirits it might he done. Will you join 
me? Be my mate, and we will divide the plunder.” 
She burst into a merry laugh. “ It would be sport to 
smoke out the old owl and send him flying down 
through the air, blinking and towhooing, to break his 
wings, or his neck, or his crown there — on those stones 
below.” 

“ I’m not English — I’m no brigand ! ” answered 
the young man vehemently. 

“ I’m English ! ” said the girl. 

“ What ? An English woman or devil ? ” 

“ I’m English — I’m Gascon. I’m anything where 
there is diversion to be got and plunder to be ob- 
tained. Oh, but we live in good times ! Deliver me 
from others where there is nothing doing, no sport, 
no chevauchee^ no spoil, no flghting.” 

Then suddenly she threw away the hammer and 
spread her arms as might a bird preparing to fly, bent 
her lithe form as might a cricket to leap. 

* A chevauchee was an expedition to ravage a tract of coun- 
try. Originally it signified a feudal service due from a vassal 
to his seigneur in private wars. 


THE STAIR PERILOUS. 


9 


“ Stand aside ! Go back ! ’Ware, I am coming ! ” 

The lad hastily beat a retreat down the steps. He 
could do no other. Each step was but two feet in 
length from the rock. There was no handrail; no 
two persons could pass on it. Moreover, the impetus 
of the girl, if she leaped from one foothold to the 
next, and the next, and then again to the stair where 
undamaged, would be prodigious ; she would require 
the way clear that she might descend bounding, swing- 
ing down the steep flight, two stages at a leap, till she 
reached the bottom. An obstruction would be fatal 
to her, and fatal to him who stood in her way. 

No word of caution, no dissuasion was of avail. 
In her attitude, in the flash of her eyes, in the tone 
of her voice, in the thrill that went through her agile 
frame, Jean saw that the leap was inevitable. He 
therefore hastened to descend, and when he reached 
the bottom, turned to see her bound. 

He held his breath. The blood in his arteries 
stood still. He set his teeth, and all the muscles of 
his body contracted as with the cramp. 

He saw her leap. 

Once started, nothing could arrest her. 

On her left hand was the smooth face of the rock, 
without even a blade of grass, a harebell, a tuft of 
juniper growing out of it. On her right was void. 
If she tripped, if she missed her perch, if she mis- 
calculated her weight, if she lost confidence for one 


10 




instant, if her nerve gave way in the slightest, if she 
was not true of eye, nimble of foot, certain in 
judging distance, then she would shoot down just as 
had the logs she had cast below. 

As certainly as he saw her fall would J ean spring 
forward in the vain hope of breaking her fall, as 
certainly to be struck down and perish with her. 

One — a whirl before his eyes. As well calculate 
her leaps as count the spokes in a wheel as it revolves 
on the road. 

One — two — three — thirty — a thousand — nothing ! 

“ There, clown ! ” 

She was at the bottom, her hands extended, her 
face flushed with excitement and pleasure. 

“ You see — what I can dare and do.” 


CHAPTER IL 


WHO IS THE FOOL HOW? 

Theke boiled up in the youth’s heart a feeling 
of wrath and indignation against the girl who in 
sheer wantonness had imperiled her life and had 
given to him a moment of spasm of apprehension. 

Looking full into her glittering brown eyes, he 
said — 

“ You have cast at me ill names. I have been to 
you but clown and fool ; I have done nothing to merit 
such titles; I should never have thrown a thought 
away on you, but have gone on scraping my shaft, 
had not you done a silly thing — a silly thing. Acted 
like a fool, and a fool only ! ” 

“ You dare not do what I have done.” 

“ If there be a need I will do it. If I do it for a 
purpose there is no folly in it. That is folly where 
there is recklessness for no purpose.” 

“ I had a purpose ! ” 

“A purpose? — what? To call my attention to 
you, to make me admire your daring, all to no end. 

2 11 


12 


NOEMI. 


Or was it in mere inconsiderate prank ? A man is not 
brave merely because he is so stupid that he does not 
see the consequences before him. A blind man may 
walk where I should shrink from treading. And 
stupidity blinds some eyes that they run into danger 
and neither see nor care for the danger or for the con- 
sequences that will ensue on their rashness.” 

The girl flushed with anger. 

“ I am not accustomed to be spoken to thus,” she 
said, and stamped her foot on the pavement of the 
platform. 

“ All the better for you that it is spoken at last.” 

“ And who are you that dare say it ? ” 

“ I — I am Jean del’ Peyra.” 

The girl laughed contemptuously. “ I never heard 
the name.” 

“ I have told you my name, what is yours ? ” asked 
the boy, and he picked up his staff and began once 
more to point it. 

There was indifference in his tone, indifference in 
the act, that exasperated the girl. 

“ You do not care — I will not say.” 

“No,” he answered, scraping leisurely at the wood. 
“I do not greatly care. Why should I? You have 
shown me to-day that you do not value yourself, and 
you do not suppose, then, that I can esteem one who 
does not esteem herself.” 

“ You dare say that ! ” The girl flared into fury. 


WHO IS THE FOOL NOW? 


13 


She stooped to pick up the hammer. Jean put his 
foot on it. 

“ No,” said he. “ You would use that, I suppose, 
to knock out my brains, because I show you no hom- 
age, because I say that you have acted as a fool, that 
your bravery is that of a fool, that your thoughts — 
aye, your thoughts of plunder and murder against the 
Bishop of Sarlat, your old owl — to whit, towhoo ! are 
the thoughts of a fool. No — I do not care for the 
name of a fool.” 

“ Why did you run up the steps ? Why did you 
cry to me to desist from knocking out the posts? 
Why concern yourself a mite about me, if you so 
despise me ? ” gasped the girl, and it seemed as 
though the words shot like flames from her lips. 

“ Because we are of like blood — that is all ! ” 
answered Jean, coolly. 

“ Like blood ! Hear him — hear him ! He and I 
— he — he and I of like blood, and he a del’ Peyra ! 
And I — I am a Noemi!” 

“ So — Noemi ! That is your name ? ” 

“ And I,” continued the girl in her raging wrath, 
“ I — learn this — I am the child of Le Gros Guillem. 
Have you ever heard of the Gros Guillem?” she 
asked in a tone of triumph, like the blast of a victor’s 
trumpet. 

Jean lowered his staff, and looked steadily at her. 
His brows were contracted, his lips were set Arm. 


14 


NO^IMI. 


“ So ! ” he said, after a pause. “ The daughter of 
Gros Guillem ? ” 

“ Aye — have you heard of him ? ” 

“Of course I have heard of him.” 

“ And of the del’ Peyras who ever heard ? ” asked 
the girl with mockery and scorn, and snapped her 
fingers. 

“ No — God be thanked ! — of the del’ Peyras you 
have never heard as of the Gros Guillem.” 

“ The grapes — the grapes are sour ! ” scoffed the 
girl. 

“ I wonder at nothing you have done,” said the 
boy sternly, since you have told me whence you 
come. Of the thorn — thorns ; of the nettle — stings ; 
of the thistle — thistles — all after their kind. No ! 
God be praised ! ” The boy took off his cap and 
looked up. “ The Gros Guillem and my father, 
Ogier del’ Peyra, are not to be spoken of in one sen- 
tence here, nor will be from the White Throne on the 
Day of Doom.” 

Looking steadily at the girl seething with anger, 
with mortified pride, and with desire to exasperate 
him, he said — 

“ I should never have thought that you sprang 
from the Gros Guillem. The likeness must be in the 
heart, it is not in the face.” 

“ Have you seen my father?” asked the girl. 

“ I have never seen him, but I have heard of him.” 


WHO IS THE FOOL NOW? 


15 


“ What have you heard ? ” 

“ That he is very tall and spider-like in build ; 
they call him ‘ le gros ’ in jest, for he is not stout, but 
very meagre. He has long hands and feet, and a long 
head with red hair, and pale face with sunspots, and 
very faint blue eyes, under thick red brows. That 
is what I am told Le Gros Guillem is like. But 


“ Describe me — go on ! ” 

“ NTo ! ” answered Jean. “ There is no need. You 
see yourself every day in the glass. When there is 
no glass you look at yourself in the water ; when no 
water, you look at yourself in your nails.” 

. “ When there is no water, I look at myself in your 
eyes, and see a little brown creature there — that is me. 
Allans 

She began to laugh. Much of her bad temper 
had flown ; she was a girl of rapidly changing moods. 

It was true that she was mirrored in Jean del’ 
Peyra’s eyes. He was observing her attentively. Never 
before had he seen so handsome a girl, with olive, 
transparent skin, through which the flush of colour 
ran like summer lightning in a summer cloud — such 
red lips, such rounded cheek and chin ; such an easy, 
graceful figure! The magnificent burnished black 
hair was loose and flowing over her shoulders ; and 
her eyes ! — they had the fire of ten thousand flints 
lurking in them and flashing out at a word. 


16 


NO^IMI. 


“How come you here?” asked Jean, in a voice 
less hard and in a tone less indifferent than before. 
“ This place, La Roque Gageac, is not one for a 
daughter of Le Gros Guillem. Here we are French. 
At Homme they are English, and that is the place for 
your father.” 

“ Ah ! ” said the girl in reply, “ among us women 
French or English are all the same. We are both and 
we are neither. I suppose you are French?” 

“ Yes, I am French.” 

“ And a Bishop’s man ? ” 

“ I live on our own land — Del Peyraland, at Ste. 
Soure.” 

“ And I am with my aunt here. My father con- 
siders Homme a little too rough a place for a girl. 
He has sent me hither. At the gates they did not 
ask me if I were French or English. They let me 
through, but not my father’s men. They had to ride 
back to Homme.” 

“ He cannot come and see you here ? ” 

The girl laughed. “ If he were to venture here, 
they would hang him — not give him half an hour to 
make his peace with Heaven ! — hang him — hang him 
as a dog ! ” 

“ So ! — and you are even proud of such a 
father ! ” 

“ So ! — and even I am proud to belong to one 
whose name is known. I thank my good star I do 


WHO IS THE FOOL NOW? 17 

not belong to a nobody of whom none talk, even as an 
Ogier del’ Peyra.” 

“ You are proud of your father — of Le Gros Guil- 
lem ! ” exclaimed Jean ; and now his brow flushed 
with anger, and his eye sparkled. “ Proud of that 
routier and rouffien* who is the scourge, the curse of 
the country round ! Proud of the man that has deso- 
lated our land, has made happy wives into wailing 
widows, and glad children into despairing orphans; 
who has wrecked churches, and drunk — blaspheming 
God at the time — out of the gold chalices ; who has 
driven his sword into the bowels of his own Mother 
Country, and has scorched her beautiful face with his 
flrebrands ! I know of Le Gros Guillem — who does 
not? — know of him by the curses that are raised by 
his ill deeds, the hatred he has sown, the vows of ven- 
geance that are registered ” 

“ Which he laughs at,” interrupted Noemi. 

“ Which he laughs at now,” pursued the boy an- 
grily, and anger gave fluency to his tongue. “ But do 
you not suppose that a day of reckoning will arrive ? 
Is Heaven deaf to the cries of the sufferers ? Is Hu- 
manity all-enduring, and never likely to revolt — and, 
when she does, to exact a terrible revenge? The 
labourer asks for naught but to plough his land in 


* A rontier, a brigand who harassed the roads ; a rouffien, a 
dweller in the rocks, rouffes. 


18 


NO]fiML 


peace, the merchant nothing but to be allowed to go 
on his journey unmolested, the priest has no higher 
desire than to say his Mass in tranquillity. And all 
this might be but for Le Gros Guillem and the like 
of him. Let the English keep their cities and their 
provinces ; they belong to them by right. But is Le 
Gros Guillem English? Was Perdu cat d’Albret Eng- 
lish? What of Le petit Mesquin? of the Archpriest? 
of Cervolle? Were they English? Are those real 
English faces that we fear and hate ? Are they not 
the faces of our own countrymen, who call themselves 
English, that they may plunder and murder their 
fellow-countrymen and soak with blood and blast 
with fire the soil that reared them ? ” 

Noemi was somewhat awed by his vehemence, but 
she said — 

“ Kather something to be talked about than a 
nothing at all.” 

“ Wrong, utterly wrong ! ” said Jean. “ Rather be 
the storm that bursts and wrecks all things than be 
still beneficent Nature in her order which brings to 
perfection? Any fool can destroy; it takes a wise 
man to build up. You — you fair and gay young 
spirit, tell me have you ever seen that of which you 
speak so lightly, of which you jest as if it were 
a matter of pastime? Have you gone tripping 
after your father, treading in his bloody footprints, 
holding up your skirts lest they should touch the 


WHO IS THE FOOL NOW? 


19 


festering carcases on either side the path he has 
trod?” 

“ No,” answered the girl, and some of the colour 
went out of her face, leaving it the finest, purest olive 
in tint. 

“Then say no more about your wish to have a 
name as a routier and to be the terror of the country- 
side, till you have experienced what it is that terror- 
ises the land.” 

“ One must live,” said Noemi. 

“ One may live by helping others to live— as does 
the peasant, and the artisan, as the merchant ; or by 
destroying the life of others — as does the routier and 
the vulgar robber,” answered Jean. 

Then Noemi caught his wrist and drew him aside 
under an archway. Her quick eye had seen the cas- 
tellan coming that way ; he had not been in the castle 
in the face of the rock, but in the town ; and he was 
now on his way back. He would find the means of 
ascent broken, and must repair it before reaching his 
eyrie. 

“Who is the fool now?” said Jean del’ Peyra. 
“You, who were knocking away the steps below you, 
calculating that if you destroyed that stair, you could 
still descend by the custodian’s rope and wind- 
lass. See — he was not there. You would have been 
fast as a prisoner till the ladder was restored; and 
small bones would have been made of you, Gros 


20 


no^:mi. 


Guillem’s daughter, for playing such a prank as 
that ! ” 

Unseen they watched the man storming, swearing, 
angrily gathering up the pegs and wedges and the 
hammer, and ascending the riskful flight of steps to 
replace the missing pieces of wood in their sockets, 
and peg them flrmly and sustainingly with their 
wedges. 

“What you did in your thoughtlessness, that your 
father and the like of him do in their viciousness, and 
do on a grander scale,” said Jean. “ They are knock- 
ing away the pegs in the great human ladder, destroy- 
ing the sower with his harvest, the merchant with his 
trade, the mason, the carpenter, the weaver with their 
crafts, the scholar with his learning, the man of God 
with his lessons of peace and goodwill. And at last 
Le Gros Guillem and such as he will be left alone, 
above a ruined world on the wreckage of which he 
has mounted, to starve, when there is nothing more to 
be got, because the honest getters have all been struck 
down. Who is the fool now ? ” 

“Have done!” said the girl impatiently. “You 
have moralised enough — you should be a clerk ! ” 

“We are all made moralists when we see honesty 
trampled under foot. Well for you, Noemi, with your 

light head and bad heart ” 

“ My bad heart ! ” 

“ Aye, your bad heart. Well for you that you are 


WHO IS THE FOOL NOW? 


21 


a harmless girl and not a boy, or you would have fol- 
lowed quick in your father’s steps and built yourself 
up as hateful a name.” 

“ I, a harmless girl ? ” 

“ Yes, a harmless girl. Your hands are feeble, and 
however malicious your heart, you can do none a mis- 
chief, save your own self.” 

“ You are sure of that ? ” 

“Mercifully it is so. The will to hurt and ruin 
may be present, but you are weak and powerless to do 
the harm you would.” 

“ Is a woman so powerless ? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

She ran up a couple of steps, caught him by the 
shoulders, stooped, and kissed him on the lips, before 
he was aware what she was about to do. 

“ Say that again ! A woman is weak ! A woman 
cannot ravage and burn, and madden and wound — 
not with a sword and a firebrand, but ” 

She stooped. The boy was bewildered — his pulses 
leaping, his eye on fire, his head reeling. She kissed 
him again. 

“ These are her weapons ! ” said NToemi. “ Who 
is the fool now ? ” 


CHAPTER III. 


THE WOLVES OUT. 

Jeah del’ Peyea was riding home, a distance of 
some fifteen miles from La Roque Gageac. His way 
led through forests of oak clothing the slopes and 
plateau of chalk. The road was bad — to be more 
exact, there was no road ; there was but a track. 

In times of civil broil, when the roads were beset 
by brigands, travellers formed or found ways for them- 
selves through the bush, over the waste land, away 
from the old and neglected arteries of traffic. The 
highways were no longer kept up — there was no one 
to maintain them in repair, and if they were sound 
no one would travel on them who could avoid them 
by a detour, when exposed to be waylaid, plundered, 
carried off to a dungeon, and put to ransom. 

To understand the condition of affairs, a brief 
sketch of the English domination in Guyenne is 
necessary. 

By the marriage of Eleanor, daughter and heiress 

of William X., Earl of Poitou and Duke of Aqui- 
22 


THE WOLVES OUT. 


23 


taine, with Henry of Anjou, afterwards Henry II. of 
England, in 1152, the vast possessions of her family 
were united to those of the Angevin house, which 
claimed the English crown. 

By this union the house of Anjou suddenly rose 
to be a power, superior to that of the French crown 
on the Gaulish soil, which it cut off entirely from the 
mouths of the Seine and the Loire, and nipped be- 
tween its Herman and Aquitanian fingers. The na- 
tives of the South — speaking their own language, of 
different race, aspirations, character, from those in 
the North — had no traditional attachment to the 
French throne, and no ideal of national concentra- 
tion about it into one great unity. Here and there, 
dotted about as islets in the midst of the English pos- 
sessions in the South, were feudal or ecclesiastical 
baronies, or townships, that were subject immedi- 
ately to the French crown, and exempt from alle- 
giance to the English King ; and these acted as germs, 
fermenting in the country, and gradually but surely 
influencing the minds of all, and drawing all to the 
thought that for the good of the land it were better 
that it should belong to France than to England. 
Such was the diocese and county of Sarlat. This had 
belonged to a monastic church founded in the eighth 
century, but it had been raised to an episcopal see in 
1317, and had never wavered in its adherence to the 
French interest. Sarlat was not on the Dordogne, 


24 


mtm. 


but lay buried, concealed in the depths of oak-woods, 
accessible only along narrow defiles commanded at 
every point by rocky headlands; and the key to the 
episcopal city was La Koque Gageac, the impregna- 
ble fortress and town on the pellucid, rippling Dor- 
dogne — the town cramped to the steep slope, the 
castle nestling into an excavation in the face of the 
abrupt scarp. 

Nearly opposite La Koque stood an insulated 
block of chalk, with precipices on all sides, and to 
secure this, in 1280, Philip III. of France built on it 
a free town, exempt from all taxes save a trifling 
house-charge due to himself ; which town he hoped 
would become a great commercial centre, and a focus 
whence French influence might radiate to the south 
of the Dordogne. Unhappily the importance of 
Domme made it a prize to be coveted by the English, 
and in 1347 they took it. They were expelled in 
1369, but John Chandos laid siege to it in 1380 and 
took it again, and from that date it remained unin- 
terruptedly in their hands till the end of the Eng- 
lish power in Aquitaine. For three hundred years 
had Guyenne pertained to the English crown, many 
of the towns and most of the nobility had no aspira- 
tions beyond serving the Leopards. The common 
people were supremely indifferent whether the Fleur- 
de-lys or the Leopards waved above them, so long as 
they were left undisturbed. It was precisely because 


THE WOLVES OUT. 


25 


tliey had not the boon of tranquillity afforded them 
by subjection to the English that they turned at 
last with a sigh of despair to the French. But 
it was to the Leopards, the hereditary coat of Guy- 
enne, that they looked first, and it was only when 
the Leopard devoured them that they inclined to the 
Lilies. 

The reason for this general dissatisfaction and 
alienation was the violence of the nobility, and the 
freebooters, who professed to act for the Crown of 
England, and to have patents warranting them to act 
licentiously. These men, caring only for their own 
interests, doing nothing to advance the prosperity of 
the land, used their position, their power, to under- 
mine and ruin it. They attacked the towns whether 
under the English or French allegiance — that mat- 
tered nothing — and forced the corporations to enter 
into compacts with them, whereby they undertook to 
pay them an annual subvention, not to ensure pro- 
tection, but merely to escape pillage. But even these 
patis^ as they were called, were precarious, and did 
not cover a multitude of excuses for infringement of 
the peace. If, for instance, a merchant of Sarlat was 
in debt to a man of Domme, the latter appealed to his 
feudal master, who, in spite of any patis granted, 
swooped down on such members of the community of 
Sarlat as he could lay hold of, and held them in dur- 
ance till not only was the debt paid, but he was him- 


26 




self indemnified for the trouble he had taken in ob- 
taining its discharge. 

If these things were done in the green tree, what 
in the dry? 

In addition to the feudal seigneurs in their castles, 
ruling over their seigneuries, and nominally amenable 
to the English crown, there were the routiers^ cap- 
tains of free companies, younger sons of noble houses, 
bastards, runaway prisoners : any idle and vicious ras- 
cal who could collect thirty men of like kidney con- 
stituted himself a captain, made for himself and his 
men a habitation by boring into the limestone or 
chalk rock, in an inaccessible position, whence he 
came down at pleasure and ravaged and robbed, 
burned and murdered indiscriminately, the lands and 
houses and persons of those, whether French or Eng- 
lish, who had anything to attract his greed, or who 
had incurred his resentment. 

When Arnaud Amanieu, Sire d’Albret, transferred 
his allegiance from the English King to the King of 
France, he was seen by Froissart in Paris, sad of coun- 
tenance, and he gave this as his reason : “ Thank God ! 
I am well in health, but my purse was fuller when I 
warred on behalf of the King of England. Then 
when we rode on adventures, there were always some 
rich merchants of Toulouse, of Condom, of La Reole, 
or Bergerac for us to squeeze. Every day we got 
some spoil to stuff our superfiuities and jollities — 


THE WOLVES OUT. 


27 


alack ! now all is dead and dull.” That was the say- 
ing of a great Prince, whom the King of France de- 
lighted to honour. Now hear the words of a com'mon 
routier : “ How rejoiced were we when we rode abroad 
and captured many a rich prior or merchant, or a 
train of mules laden with Brussels cloths, or furs from 
the fair of Landit, or spices from Bruges, or silks from 
Damascus ! All was ours, and we ransomed men at 
our good pleasure. Every day fresh spoil. The vil- 
lages purveyed to us, and the rustics brought us corn, 
flour, bread, litter, wines, meat, and fowl; we were 
waited on as kings, we were clothed as princes, and 
when we rode abroad the earth quaked before us.” 

In this terrible time agriculture languished, trade 
was at a standstill. Bells were forbidden to be rung 
in churches from vespers till full day, lest they should 
direct the freebooters to villages that they might rav- 
age. The towns fortified themselves, the villagers 
converted their churches into castles, and surrounded 
them with moats. Children were planted on all high 
points to keep watch, and give warning at the flash of 
a helmet. Wretched peasants spent their nights in 
islands in mid-river or in caves underground. 

No one who has not visited the country swept and 
re-swept by these marauders can have any conception 
of the agony through which the country passed. It is 
furrowed, torn, to the present day by the picks of the 
ruflians who sought for themselves nests whence they 
3 


28 


NOfiML 


might survey the land and swoop down on it, but 
above all by the efforts of the tortured to hide them- 
selves — here burrowing underground like moles in 
mid-field, there boring out chambers in clefts of the 
rock, there constructing for themselves cabins in the 
midst of mosquito-haunted marshes, and there, again, 
ensconcing themselves in profound depths of trackless 
forests. 

As Jean del’ Peyra rode along, he shook his head 
and passed his hand over his face, as though to free it 
from cobwebs that had gathered about his eyes and 
were irritating him. But these were no spider- 
threads : what teased and confused him were other 
fibres, spun by that brown witch, Noemi. 

He was angry, indignant with her, but his anger 
and indignation were, as it were, trowel and prong 
that dug and forked the thoughts of her deep into his 
mind. He thought of her standing before Jiim, quiv- 
ering with wrath, the fire flashing and changing hue 
in her opalescent brown eyes, and the hectic flame 
running through her veins and tinging cheek and 
brow. He thought of her voice, so full of tone, so 
flexible, as opalescent in melodious change as her eyes 
iridescent of light. 

That she — she with such a smooth face, such slim 
fingers — should talk of crime as a joke, exult over the 
misery of her fellows ! A very leopard in litheness 
and in beauty, and a very leopard in heart. 


THE WOLVES OUT. 


29 


Jean del’ Peyra’s way led down the head stream of 
the Lesser Beune. The valley was broad — one level 
marsh — and, in the evening, herons were quivering in 
it, stooping to pick up an eft or a young roach. 

“ Ah ! you vile creature ! ” sang forth Jean, as a 
black hare rose on his left and darted past him into 
the wood. “ Prophet of evil ! But what else in these 
untoward times and in this evil world can one expect 
but omens of ill ? ” 

The track by which Jean descended emerged from 
the dense woods upon open ground. As the Beune 
slid to a lower level, it passed under precipices of rock, 
about a hundred or a hundred and fifty feet high; 
and these cliffs, composed of beds of various softness, 
were horizontally channelled, constituting terraces, 
each terrace unsupported below, or rather thrown for- 
ward over a vault. Moreover, there was not one of 
these platforms of rock that was not tenanted. In 
the evening, peasants returning from their work were 
ascending to their quarters by scrambling up the rocks 
where vertical, by means of notches cut in the stone, 
into which they thrust their hands and feet. Where 
the ledges overhung, the men were drawn up by ropes 
to the platforms above. 

But not only was this the case with men, but with 
their oxen. Jean passed and saluted a farmer who 
was in process of placing his beasts in a position of 
security for the night. His wife was above, in the 


30 


NOfeMl. 


rock, and was working a windlass by means of which 
an ox was being gradually lifted from the ground by 
broad bands passed under its belly, and so was raised 
to the height of some thirty feet, where the beast, ac- 
customed to this proceeding, quickly stepped on to a 
narrow path cut in the rock, and walked to its stable, 
also rock-hewn in the face of the cliff. 

In another place was a woman with her children 
closing up the opening of a grotto that was level with 
the soil. This was effected by a board which fitted 
into a rebate in the rock, and then the woman, after 
putting her children within, heaped stones and sods 
against the board to disguise it; and when this had 
been done to her satisfaction, she crawled in by a hole 
that had been left for the purpose, and by a cord 
pulled after her a bunch of brambles that served to 
plug and disguise this hole. 

Bitterness welled up in the heart of Jean as he no- 
ticed all these efforts made by the poor creatures to 
place themselves in security during the hours of 
darkness. 

“ Ah, Fontaineya ! ” called Jean to the farmer who 
was superintending the elevation of his second ox. 
“ How goes the world with you ? ” 

“ Bad, but might be worse — even as with you.” 

“ With me things are not ill.” 

“ Whence come you, then ? ” 

“ From La Boque.” 


THE WOLVES OUT. 


31 


“ Aha ! Not from Ste. Soure ? ” 

“ No, I have been from home these fourteen days.” 
“ Then do not say things are not ill with you till 
you have been home,” remarked the peasant dryly. 

“What has happened?” asked Jean, his blood 
standing still with alarm. 

“ The wolves have been hunting ! ” 

“ What wolves ? ” 

“ The red. Le Gros Guillem.” 

“ He has been to Ste. Soure ? ” 

“ He has been to where Ste. Soure wasP 


CHAPTER IV. 


IN NOMINE BEELZEBUB. 

It was strange. The first recoil wave of the shock 
caused by this tidings broke into foam and fury 
against Hoe mi. Jean del’ Peyra did not think of his 
loss, of the ruin of his home, of the sufferings of his 
people, but of Hoemi laughing, making light of these 
things. 

It was strange. Instead of striking spurs into his 
steed’s flank and galloping forward to the scene of 
desolation, involuntarily, unconsciously, he turned his 
horse’s head round, so that he faced the far-off Ga- 
geac, and with set teeth and flashing eye and lowering 
brow, wiped his lips with the sleeve of his right arm — 
wiped them not once nor twice, hut many times as to 
wipe off and wipe away for ever the sensation, the 
taint, the fire that had been kindled there by the 
kisses he had received. 

Then only did he wheel his horse about and gallop 
— where galloping was possible — down the valley of the 

Beune. The Beune is a stream rather than a river, 
32 


IN NOMINE BEELZEBUB. 


33 


that flows into the Vezere. It has a singular quality: 
so charged are the waters with lime that they petrify, 
or rather encrust, the roots of all plants growing in 
the morass through which they flow, by this means 
forming dams for itself, which it gradually surmounts 
to form others. The original bottom of the ravine 
must be at a considerable depth under the flat marsh 
of living and dead water weed, of active and paralysed 
marsh plants, of growing and petrified moss that en- 
cumbers it, and extends to the very faces of the rocks. 

At the present day a road laboriously constructed, 
and where it crossed the valley perpetually sinking 
and perpetually renovated, gives access to the springs 
of the Beune. It was not so in the fifteenth century. 
Then a track lay along the sides where the ground 
was solid — that is to say, where it consisted of rubble 
from the hill-sides ; but where the marsh reached the 
abrupt walls of cliif, there the track clambered up the 
side of the valley, and surmounted the escarpments. 

Consequently progress in former ages in that part 
was not as facile as it is at present. 

Jean was constrained speedily to relax the pace at 
which he was proceeding. 

As long as he was in forest and rough place he 
was secure : the brigands did not care to penetrate, at 
all events at nightfall, into out-of-the-way places, and 
where they might fall into ambuscades. 

It was otherwise when he came to where the 


34 


NOEMI. 


Beune distilled from its sponge of moss into the 
rapidly flowing Vezere. Here was a great amphi- 
theatre of scarped sides of rock, all more or less 
honeycombed with habitations and refuges. 

Here, on his left-hand side, looking north, scowl- 
ing over the pleasant and smiling basin of the Y ez^re, 
was the castle of the Great Guillem. It consisted of 
a range of caves or overhanging ledges of rock, the 
faces of which had been built up with walls, windows, 
.and crenelations, and a gate-house had been con- 
structed to command the only thread of a path by 
which the stronghold could be reached. 

From this castle watch was kept, and no one could 
ascend or descend the valley unobserved. Jean was 
on the same bank as the fortress of Guillem, though 
considerably above it. He must cross the river, and 
to do this, ascend it to the ford. 

He moved along carefully and watchfully. The 
dusk of evening concealed his movements, and he was 
able, unnoticed, or at all events unmolested, to traverse 
the Vezere and pass on the further side of the river 
down stream, in face of the strong place of Le Gros 
Guillem. 

A couple of leagues further down was a hamlet, or 
rather village, called Le Peuch Ste. Soure, clustered 
at the foot of a cliff or series of cliffs that rose out of 
a steep incline of rubble. The houses were gathered 
about a little church dedicated to Ste. Soure. The 


IN NOMINE BEELZEBUB. 


35 


white crags above were perforated with habitations. 
A scent of fire was in the air, and in the gloaming 
Jean could see the twinkle of sparks running, dying 
out, reappearing where something had been consumed 
by flames, but was still glowing in places, and sparks 
were wandering among its ashes. As he drew nearer 
he heard wailing, and with the wailing voices raised 
in cursing. 

A sickness came on the lad’s heart ; he knew but 
too well what this all signified — desolation to many 
homes, ruin to many families. 

“ Hold ! Who goes ? ” 

“ It is I — Jean del’ Peyra.” 

“Well — pass. You will find your father. He is 
with the Rossignols.” 

Jean rode on. There were tokens of confusion on 
all sides. Here a rick was smouldering, and there a 
house was weecked, the door broken, and the con- 
tents of the dwelling thrown out in the v^ray before it. 
Pigs that had escaped from their styes ran about root- 
ing after food, and dogs snarled and carried off frag- 
ments of meat. A few peasants were creeping about 
timidly, but, alarmed at the appearance in their midst 
of a man on horseback, and unable in the dusk to dis- 
tinguish who he was, they fled to conceal themselves. 
Jean leaped from his horse, hitched it up, and strode 
on, with beating heart and bounding pulse, to a house 
which he knew was that of the Rossignols. 


36 


NOfiMI. 


He entered the door. A light shone through the 
low window. It was characteristic of the times that 
in every village and hamlet the windows — the only 
windows — were so turned inwards on a street or yard 
that they revealed no light at night when a candle 
was kindled or a fire burned brightly on the hearth, 
lest the light should betray to a passing marauder the 
presence of a house which might be looted. 

Jean bowed his head and entered at the low door. 
The fire was flashing in the large open chimney. A 
bundle of vine faggots had been thrown on, and the 
light filled the chamber with its orange glare. 

By this light Jean saw a bed with a man lying on 
it; and a woman crying, beating her head and utter- 
ing wild words — her children clinging to her, sob- 
bing, frightened, imploring her to desist. 

Erect, with a staff in his hand, stood a grey- 
headed, thick-bearded man, with dark eyes shadowed 
under heavy brows. 

He turned sharply as the lad entered. 

“ Hah ! Jean, you are back. It is well. It is well 
you were not here this day earlier. If they had taken 
you, there would have been a heavy ransom to pay, by 
the Holy Napkin of Cadouin ! And how to redeem 
those already taken I know not.” 

“What has been done to Rossignol, father?” 
asked Jean, going to the bed. 

“ What will be done to the rest unless the ransom 


IN NOMINE BEELZEBUB. 


37 


be forthcoming in fourteen days. They have left him 
thus, to show us what will be the fate of the seven 
others.” 

“ Seven others, father ? ” 

“ Aye ; they have taken off seven of the men of 
Ste. Soure. We must find the ransom, or they will 
send them back to us, even after the fashion of this 
poor man.” 

“ Is he dead, father ? ” 

The man lying on the bed moved, and, raising 
himself on his elbow, said — 

“Young master, I am worse than dead. Dead, I 
would be no burden. Living, I shall drag my darlings 
underground with me.” 

Then the woman, frantic with grief, turned on her 
knees, threw up her hands, and uttered a stream of 
mingled prayer and imprecation — prayer to Heaven 
and prayer to Hell ; to Heaven to blast and torture 
the destroyers of her house, to Hell to hear her cry 
if Heaven were deaf. It was not possible for Jean to 
learn details from her in this fury and paroxysm. 
He drew his father outside the door and shut it. 

“ Father,” said he, “ tell me what has taken place. 
It was Le Gros Guillem, was it not ? ” 

“Aye, Le Gros Guillem. We did not know he 
was in his church, we thought he was in Domme, and 
would be occupied there, and we gave less heed and 
kept less close watch. You see there were, we knew 


38 


NOfeMI. 


or supposed, but three men in the church, and so long 
as they were supplied with food and wine, we had 
little fear. But we had not reckoned right on Guil- 
lem. He came back in the night with a score of men, 
and they rushed down on us ; they crossed the river 
during the day, when the men were in the fields and 
about their work, and the women and children alone 
in the houses. When it was seen that the routiers 
were coming, then the church bell was rung, but we 
had little or no time to prepare ; they were on us and 
in every house, breaking up the coffers, sacking the 
closets.” 

“ Did they get into Le Peuch, father? ” 

“ J^’o ; when we heard the bell, then we shut the 
gates and barricaded ; but there were not four men in 
the castle, myself included. What could we do ? We 
could only look on and witness the destruction ; and 
one of the men in the castle was Limping Gaston, 
who was no good at all ; and another was Blind 
Bartholomew, who could not see an enemy and dis- 
tinguish him from a friend. When the men in the 
fields heard the bell, they came running home, to 
save what might be saved ; but it was too late. The 
ruffians were there robbing, maltreating, and they 
took them as they came on — seven of them — and 
bound their hands behind them, and these they have 
carried off. They have burned the stack of corn of 
Jean Grano. The wife of Mussidan was baking. 


IN NOMINE BEELZEBUB. 


39 


They have carried off all her loaves, and when she 
entreated them to spare some they swore at another 
word they would throw one of her babes into the 
oven. They have ransacked every house, and spoiled 
what they could not carry away. And the rest of the 
men, when they saw how those who came near Ste. 
Soure were taken, fled and hid themselves. Some of 
the women, carrying their children, came up the steep 
slope before the routiers arrived, and we received 
them into the castle ; but others remained, hoping to 
save some of their stuff, and not thinking that the 
enemy was so nigh. So they were beaten to tell where 
any money was hidden. The wife of Drax — she has 
had her soles so cut with vine-rods that she cannot 
walk ; but she was clever — she told where some old 
Roman coins were hid in a pot, and not where were 
her silver livres of French money.” 

“ How long were they here?” 

“ I cannot tell, Jean. It seemed a century. It 
may have been an hour.” 

“ They have carried off seven men.” 

“ Yes, to Domme, or to the church. I cannot say 
where. And we must send the ransom in fourteen 
days, or Le Gros Guillem swears he will return them 
all to us tied on the backs of mules, treated as he has 
treated Rossignol. lie said he left us Rossignol as a 
refresher.” 

“ But what has he done to Rossignol ? ” 


40 


NO^:MI. 


“ Hamstrung him. He can never walk again. 
From his thighs down he is powerless — helpless as a 
babe in arms.” 

Jean uttered an exclamation of horror. 

“ Father, there must he an end put to these 
things ! We must rouse the country.” 

“We must pay the ransom first, or all those poor 
fellows will be sent back to us like as is Eossignol.” 

“ Let us go into the house,” said- Jean, and threw 
open the door. “We must do something for these 
unhappy creatures.” 

“ Aye,” said his father, “ and something must he 
done to save seven other houses from being put in the 
same condition. Where shall we get the money ? ” 

“ We will consider that presently — first to this 
man.” 

A strange spectacle met their eyes when they re- 
entered the house of the Eossignols. 

The woman had suspended something dark to a 
crook in the ceiling, had brought glowing ashes from 
the hearth, and had placed them in a circle on the 
floor below this dark object, and had spilled tallow 
over the red cinders, and the tallow having melted, 
had become ignited, so that a flicker of blue flame 
shot about the ring, and now and then sent up a jet 
of yellow flame like a long tongue that licked the 
suspended object. The woman held back her chil- 
dren, and in one hand she had a long steel pin or 


IN NOMINE BEELZEBUB. 


41 


skewer, with a silver head to it, wherewith she had 
been wont to fasten up her hair. She had withdrawn 
this from her head, and all her black hair was flowing 
♦ about her face and shoulders. 

“ See ! ” yelled she, and the glitter of her eyes was 
terrible. “ See ! it is the heart of Le Gros Guillem. 
I will punish him for all he has done to me. This 
for my man’s nerves that he has cut.” She made a 
stab with her pin at the suspended object, which Jean 
and his father now saw was a bullock’s heart. “ This 
for all the woe he has brought on me ! ” She stabbed 
again. “ See, see, my children, how he twists and 
tosses ! Ha ! ha ! Gros Guillem, am I paining you ? 
Do you turn to escape me ? Do I strike spasms of 
terror into your heart ? Ha ! ha ! the Rossignol is a 
song-bird, but her beak is sharp.” 

Jean caught the woman’s hand. 

“ Stand back ! ” he cried, “ this is devilry. This 
will bring you to the stake.” 

“ What care I — so long as I torture and stab and 
burn Le Gros Guillem ! And who will denounce me 
for harming him? Will the Church — which he has 
pillaged? Will you — whom he has robbed? Let me 
alone — see — see how the flames burn him ! Ha ! ha ! 
Le Gros Guillem ! Am I swinging you ! Dance, 
dance in Are! Swing, swing in anguish! For my 
children this 1 ” and she stabbed at the heart again. 

The woman was mad with despair and hate and 


42 


no^:mi. 


terror. Jean stood back, put his hand to his mouth, 
and said with a groan — 

“ My God ! would Noe mi were here ! ” 

“ In Nomine Beelzebub ! ” shrieked the woman, 
and struck the heart down into the melted flaming 
fat on the floor. 


CHAPTER V. 


KAISIN’G THE KAHSOM. 

A HEAVY sum of money had to be raised, and 
that within a fortnight. 

The Del’ Peyra family was far from wealthy. It 
owned a little seigneurie, Ste. Soure, little else. It 
took Rs name from the rocks among which it had its 
habitation, from the rocks among which its land lay 
in brown patches, and from which a scanty harvest 
was reaped. Only in the valley where there was allu- 
vial soil were there pastures for cattle, and on the 
slopes vineyards whence wine could be expressed. 
The arable land on the plateaus above the valley of 
the Vezdre was thin and poor enough. A little grain 
could be grown among the flints and chips of chalk, 
but it was scanty and poor in quality. If the terri- 
tories owned by the Del’ Peyras had been extensive, 
then vastness of domain might have compensated for 
its poor quality. But such was not the case. 

The Castle of Le Peuch above Ste. Soure was but 
small ; it consisted of a cluster of buildings leaning 
4 43 


44 


NOfiMI. 


against the upright cliff at the summit of a steep in- 
cline. This natural glacis of rubble, at an inclination 
so rapid that the ascent was a matter of difficulty, 
was in itself a considerable protection to it. The 
castle could not be captured at a rush, for no rush 
could be made up a slope which was surmountable 
only with loss of wind. But supposing the main 
buildings w^ere stormed, still the inhabitants were 
sure of escape, for from the roof of the castle they 
could escalade the precipices to a series of chambers 
scooped out of the rock, at several successive eleva- 
tions, each stage being defendable, and only to be 
surmounted by a ladder. The castle itself was hardly 
so big as a modern farmhouse. It consisted t)f but 
three or four small chambers, one of which served 
as kitchen and hall. Le Peuch was not a place to 
stand much of a siege ; it was rather what was called 
in those times a place-forte^ a stronghold in which 
people could take temporary refuge from the free- 
booters who swept the open country, and had no 
engines for the destruction of walls, nor time to ex- 
pend in a regular siege. To the poor at that period, 
the church-tower was the one hold of security, where 
they put their chests in which were all their little 
treasures ; and it was one of the bitterest complaints 
against a rapacious Bishop of Eodez, that he levied a 
fee for his own pocket on all these cypress and 
ashen boxes confided to the sanctuary of the parish 


RAISING THE RANSOM. 


45 


church. When the signal was given that an enemy 
was in sight, then men and women crowded to the 
church and barred its doors. A visitor to the Peri- 
gord will this day see many a village church which 
bears tokens of having been a fortress. The lowest 
storey is church ; the floors above are so contrived as 
to serve as places of refuge, with all appliances for a 
residence in them. When Louis VII. was ravaging 
the territories of his indocile vassal, the Count of 
Champagne, he set Are to the church of the little 
town of Vitry, in which all the citizens, their wives 
and children, had taken refuge, and thirteen hundred 
persons perished in the flames. Such was war in the 
Middle Ages. When Henry V. of England was en- 
treated not to burn the towns and villages through 
which he passed, “ Bah ! ” said he, “ would you have 
me eat my meat without mustard ? ” 

At Ste. Soure there was no church-tower, the 
place of refuge of the villagers was Le Peuch ; but 
the attack of the marauders had been too sudden and 
unexpected for them to reach it. 

What was to be done ? The ransom demanded for 
the seven men was a hundred livres of Bergerac — 
that is to say, a sum equivalent at the present time 
to about one thousand nine hundred pounds. Unless 
the men were redeemed, the Sieur of Le Peuch would 
be ruined. No men would remain under his protec- 
tion when he could neither protect nor deliver them. 


46 




If he raised the sum, it must be at a ruinous rate, 
that would impoverish him for years. He was 
stunned with the magnitude of the disaster. There 
was but a fortnight in which not only must he re- 
solve what to do, but have the money forthcoming. 

After the first stupefaction was over, the old man’s 
heart was full of wrath. 

Ogier del’ Peyra had been a peaceable man, a good 
landlord, never oppressing his men, rather dull in 
head and slow of thought, but right-minded and 
straightforward. No little seigneur in all the district 
was so respected. Perhaps it was for this reason 
that his lands had hitherto been spared by the rav- 
agers. He was not one who had been a hot partisan 
of the French and a fiery opponent of the English, 
or rather of those who called themselves English. 
He had wished for nothing so much as to remain 
neutral. 

But now Le Gros' Guillem, who respected nothing 
and nobody, had suddenly dealt him a staggering 
blow from which he could hardly recover. 

The effect when the first numbness was passed 
was such as is often the case with dull men, slow to 
move. Once roused and thoroughly exasperated, he 
became implacable and resolute. 

“ We will recover our men,” said Ogier to his son, 
“ and then repay Guillem in his own coin.” 

“How shall we get the money?” asked Jean. 


RAISING THE RANSOM. 


47 


“ You must go to Sarlat, and see if any can be 
procured there. See the Bishop ; he may help.” 

Accordingly Jean del’ Peyra rode back a good part 
of the way he had traced the previous day, but half- 
way turned left to Sarlat instead of right to La 
Roque. 

The little city of Sarlat occupies a basin at the 
juncture of some insignificant streams, and was 
chosen by the first settlers — monks — as being in an 
almost inaccessible position, when Perigord was cov- 
ered with forest. It was to be reached only through 
difficult and tortuous glens. A fiourishing town it 
never was, and never could be, as it had no fertile 
country round to feed it. It was a town that strug- 
gled on — and drew its main importance from the fact 
of its serving as a centre of French influence against 
the all-pervading English power. It had another 
source of life in that, being under the pastoral staff 
instead of under the sword, it had better chance of 
peace than had a town owing duty, military and 
pecuniary, to a lay lord. The baron, if not on the 
defensive, was not happy unless levying war, whereas 
the ecclesiastical chief acted solely in the defensive. 

The protection of the district ruled by the Bishop 
of Sarlat was no easy or inexpensive matter, hemmed 
in as it was by insolent seigneurs, who pretended to 
serve the English when wronging their French neigh- 
bours. Moreover the strong town of Domme, on the 


48 


NO^:ML 


Dordogne, facing La Roque, was in the hands of the 
English, and was garrisoned for them under the com- 
mand of the notorious Captain, Le Gros Guillem. 

This man had his own fastness above the Vezere, 
on the left bank, below the juncture of the Beune 
with the river, a place called by the people “ L’Eglise 
de Guillem,” in bitterness of heart and loathing, be- 
cause there, according to the popular belief, he had 
his sanctuary in which he worshipped the devil. 
Few, if any, of the peasants had been suffered to 
enter this fortress, half-natural, half-artificial. Such 
as had gained a closer view than could be obtained 
from two hundred feet below by the river bank said 
that it consisted of a series of chambers, partly natural, 
scooped in the rock, and of a cavern of unknown depth 
with winding entrance, that led, it was rumoured, 
into the place of torment ; and at the entrance, ex- 
cavated in a projecting piece of rock, was a holy- 
water stoup such as is seen in churches. This, how- 
ever, it was whispered, was filled with blood, and Le 
Gros Guillem, when he entered the cave to adore the 
fiend, dipped his finger therein, and signed himself 
with some cabalistic figure, of which none save he 
knew the significance. 

Between his own stronghold of L’Eglise and the 
walled town of Domme, Guillem was often on the 
move. 

Without much difficulty, Jean del’ Peyra obtained 


RAISING THE RANSOM. 


49 


access to the Bishop, an amiable, frightened, and 
feeble man, little suited to cope with the difficulties 
of his situation. Jean told him the reason why he 
had come. 

“ But,” said the Bishop, “ you are not my vassal. 
I am not bound to sustain you.” And he put his 
hands to his head and pressed it. 

“ I know that. Monseigneur ; but you are French, 
and so is my father ; and we French must hold 
together and help each other.” 

“ You must go to the French Governor of Guy- 
enne.” 

“ Where is he! What can he do? There is no 
time to be lost to save the men.” 

The Bishop squeezed his head. “ I am unable to 
do anything. A hundred livres of Bergerac — that is 
a large sum. If it had been livres of Tours, it would 
have been better. Here 1 ” — he signed to his treas- 
urer — “ How much have I ? Is there anything in my 
store ? ” 

“ Nothing,” answered the official. “Monseigneur 
has had to pay the garrison of La Roque, and all the 
money is out.” 

“ You hear what he says,” said the Bishop dis- 
piritedly. “ I have nothing ! ” 

“ Then the seven men must be mutilated.” 

“ It is too horrible ! And the poor wives and chil- 
dren ! Ah ! we are in terrible times. I pray the 


60 


NOEMI. 


Lord daily to take me out of it into the Rest there 
remains for the peoj^le of God ; or, better still, to 
translate me to another see.” 

“ Yes, Monseigneur ; but whilst we are here we 
must do what we can for our fellows, and to save 
them from further miseries.” 

“ That is true, boy, very true. I wish I had 
money. But it comes in in trickles and goes out in 
floods. I will tell you what to do. Go to the Saint 
Suaire at Cadouin and pray that the Holy Napkin 
may help.” 

“ I am afraid the help may come too late ! The 
Napkin, I hear, is slow in answering prayer.” 

“ Not if you threaten it with the Saint Suaire at 
Cahors. Those two Holy Napkins are so near that 
they are as jealous of each other as two handsome 
girls ; and if they met would tear each other as cats. 
Tell the Saint Suaire at Cadouin that if you are not 
helped at once you will apply to her sister at Cahors.” 

“ I have been told that it costs money to make the 
Saint Suaire listen to one’s addresses, and I want to 
receive and not to pay.” 

“ Not much, not much ! ” protested the Bishop. 

“ Besides, Monseigneur,” said the youth, “ there 
might be delay while the two Holy Napkins were 
fighting out the question which Tvas to help us. And 
then — to have such a squabble might not be conducive 
to religion.” 


RAISING THE RANSOM. 


51 


“ There is something in that,” said the Bishop. 
“ Oh, my head ! my poor head ! ” He considered a 
while, and then with a sigh said — “ ITl indulge but- 
ter. I will ! ” 

“ I do not understand, my lord.” 

“ I’ll allow the faithful to eat butter in Lent, if 
they will pay a few sols for the privilege. That will 
raise a good sum.” 

“ Yes, but Lent is six months hence, and the men 
will be mutilated in twelve days.” 

“ Besides, I want the butter money for the cathe- 
dral, which is a shabby building ! What a world of 
woe we live in ! ” 

“ Monseigneur, can you not help me? Must seven 
homes be rendered desolate for lack of a hundred 
livres ? ” 

“ Oh, my head ! it will burst ! I have no money, 
but I will do all in my power to assist yon. Ogier 
del’ Peyra is a good man, and good men are few. Go 
to Levi. in the Market Place. He is the only man in 
Sarlat who grows rich in the general impoverishment. 
He must help you. Tell him that I will guarantee 
the sum. If he will give you the money, then he 
shall make me pay a denier every time I light my fire 
and warm my old bones at it. He can see my chim- 
ney from his house, and whenever he notices smoke 
rise from it, let him come in and demand his 
denier.” 


52 


no^:mi. 


“ It will take a hundred years like that to clear 
off the principal and meet the interest.” 

The Bishop raised his hands and clasped them 
despairingly. “ I have done my utmost ! ” 

“ Then I am to carry the tidings to seven wives 
that the Church cannot help them ? ” 

“ No — no ! Try Levi with the butter-money. I 
did desire to have a beautiful tower to my cathedral, 
but seven poor homes is better than fine carving, and 
I will promise him the butter-money. Try him with 
that — if that fails, then I am helpless. My head ! 
my head ! It will never rest till laid in the grave. 
0 sacred Napkins of Cadouin and Cahors ! Take 
care of yourselves and be more indulgent to us miser- 
able creatures, or I will publish a mandment recom- 
mending the Napkin of Compiegne, or that of Besan- 
9 on, and then where will you be ? ” 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE JEW. 

J EAH del’ Peyka left the Bishop’s castle, which 
stood on rising ground above the town, and was well 
fortified against attack, and entered the city to find 
Levi. The J ew lived in the little square before the 
cathedral. 

The Bishop might well say that his episcopal seat 
was shabby, for the minster was small and rude in 
structure, a building of the Romanesque period such 
as delighted the monks to erect, and of which many 
superb examples exist in Guyenne. The monastic 
body at Sarlat had not been rich enough or suffi- 
ciently skilled in building to give themselves as 
stately a church as Souillac, Moissac, or Oadouin. It 
consisted, like nearly every other sacred dwelling of 
the period, of an oblong domed building, consisting 
of three squares raised on arches surmounted by Ori- 
ental cupolas, with an unfinished tower at the west 
end. The visitor to Sarlat at the present day will see 

a cathedral erected a century and more after the date 
53 


54 




of our story, in a debased but not unpicturesque 
style. 

The Jew was not at home. His wife informed 
Jean that he had gone to La Roque to gather in a 
few sols that were owing to him there for money ad- 
vanced to needy personages, and that she did not ex- 
pect him home till the morrow. Christians were 
ready enough to come to her husband for loans, but 
were very reluctant to pay interest, and it cost Levi 
much pains and vexation to extract what was his 
due from those whom he had obliged. Accordingly 
Jean remounted his horse, and rode over the hills 
due south, in the direction of the Dordogne. 

About halfway between Sarlat and La Roque, at 
the highest point of the road, where the soil is too 
thin even to sustain a growth of oak coppice, and pro- 
duces only juniper, Jean passed a singular congeries 
of stones; it consisted of several blocks set on end, 
forming an oblong chamber, and covered by an im- 
mense slab, in which were numerous cup-like holes, 
formed by the weather, or whence lumps of flint had 
been extracted. It was a prehistoric tomb — a dolmen, 
and went by the name of the Devil’s Table. To the 
present day, the women coming to the market at Sar- 
lat ‘from La Roque rest on it, and if they put their 
fish which they have to sell into the cups on the table, 
are sure of selling them at a good price. Yet such 
action is not thought to bring a blessing with it, and 


THE JEW. 


the money got by the sale of the fish thus placed in 
the Devil’s cups rarely does good to those who receive 
it. The monument is now in almost total ruin: the 
supports have been removed or are fallen, but at the 
time of this tale it was intact. 

Jean did not pay it any attention, but rode for- 
wards as hastily as he could on his somewhat fatigued 
horse. 

On reaching the little town of La Roque, Jean was 
constrained to put up his horse outside the gates. 
There was not a street in the place along which a 
horse could go. The inhabitants partook of the na- 
ture of goats, they scrambled from one house to an- 
other when visiting their neighbours. Only by the 
river-side was there a level space, and this was occu- 
pied by strong walls as a protection against assault 
from the water. 

Jean inquired whether the Jew had been seen, and 
where, and was told that he had been to several 
houses, and was now in that of the Tardes. The fam- 
ily of Tarde was one of some consequence in the little 
place, and had its scutcheon over the door. It was 
noble — about three other families in the place had the 
same pretensions, or, to be more exact, right. Jean, 
without scruple, went to the house of the Tardes and 
asked for admission, and was at once ushered into the 
little hall. 

The Jew was there along with Jean and Jacques 


66 


N0^1MI. 


Tarde, and they were counting money. To Del’ Pey- 
ra’s surprise, Noemi was also present and looking on. 

Jean del’ Peyra gave his name, and asked leave to 
have a word with the Jew. He stated the circum- 
stances openly. There was no need for concealment. 
Le Grros Guillem had fallen on Ste. Soure, and after 
committing the usual depredations, had carried off 
seven men, and held them to ransom. The sum de- 
manded was a hundred Bergerac livres. Unless that 
sum was produced immediately, the men would be 
mutilated — hamstrung. 

As Jean spoke, with bitterness welling up in his 
heart, he looked straight in the eyes of Noemi. She 
winced, changed colour, hut resolved not to show that 
she felt what was said, and returned Jean’s look with 
equal steadiness. 

“And you want the money?” said the Jew. “*On 
what security?” 

“ The Bishop will grant an indulgence to eat but- 
ter in Lent at a fee. That will raise more than is 
required.” 

“ The Bishop 1 ” Levi shook his head. “ You 
Christians are not men of your word. You will prom- 
ise it — and never pay.” 

“ You lie, Jewish dog ! ” said Jacques Tarde. 
“ Have I not paid you what was owing ? ” 

“ Ah, you — but the Bishop ! ” 

“ Is he false? ” 


THE JEW. 


57 


“ He may think it righteous to cheat the Jew.” 

“ He will give you what security you require that 
the money be forthcoming,” said Jean. 

“ Will not the Christians eat butter without pay- 
ing for the dispensation ? ” asked the Jew. “ If they 
think that the butter-money is coming to me they 
will not scruple. I do not like the security. The 
Bishop is old ; he may die before Lent ; and then 
what chance shall I have of getting my money ? The 
next Bishop will not allow butter, or, if he does, will 
pocket the money it brings in. He will not be tied 
by this Bishop’s engagement. I will not have the 
butter-money.” 

“ Will you take a mortgage on Ste. Soure?” asked 
Jean. 

“I don’t know. It is not on the Bishop’s lands. 
It is face to face with the stronghold of the big Guil- 
lem. If I wanted to sell and realise, who would buy 
in such proximity? Whom are you under? The 
King of France ? He is a long way oil and his arm 
is weak. Ko, I will not have a mortgage on Ste. 
Soure. Besides, I am poor ; I have no money.” 

“ You lying cur ! ” exclaimed Jacques Tarde ; “ we 
have paid you up all the capital lent us. We would 
no longer have our blood sucked at twenty-eight per 
cent, and we have sold the little land at Vezac to pay 
you.” 

“ That was easy land to sell,” said the Jew. “ With 


68 


NO^MI. 


Beynac Castle on one side and La Koque on the 
other ! But Ste. Soure ” — he shook his head. “ It is 
under the claw of Guillem. He has but to put down 
his hand from the Church and he scratches through 
the roofs, and picks out all that he desires.” 

“ And you refuse the Bishop’s guarantee ? ” 

The Jew looked furtively at the two Tardes and 
at Jean and said — “Who is to guarantee the Bishop? 
On his lands he sees that I draw in my little sols, but 
then I pay him for that, I pay heavily, and for that 
heavy price he allows me to lend moneys and pick up 
interests. But I do not pay the King of France to 
ensure me against the Bishop. That is why I will not 
let him be in debt to me.” 

“ Our land is devoured by two evils,” said Jacques 
Tarde. “ The routier and Jew, and I do not know 
which is worst! We shake ourselves, and kick out, 
and for a moment are free, and then they settle on 
us again. The carrion crow and the worm — and so 
we die.” * 

“ Ah, Monsoo Tarde ! ” answered Levi. “ Why do 
you speak like this? You wished to build you a 
grand house and paint it and carve and gild — and for 
that must have moneys. Did I come and force you 
to borrow of me my poor pennies? Did you not 
come and beg me to furnish what you needed ? I did 
not say to you, ‘ Your old house is not worthy of a 
Tarde. It is mean and not half fine enough for a fine 


THE JEW. 


59 


man like you ! ’ It was your own pride and vanity 
sent you to me. And now, if I could find the moneys 
would not this young gentleman bless me, and the 
seven families I might be the saving of, call down the 
benediction of the skies on me and mine ? Here has 
he come all the way from Ste. Soure to seek me, and 
he is in despair because I am so poor.” 

“ You poor ! Levi ! you thief ! ” 

“ I am poor. I lay by grain on grain ; and such 
as you scatter and destroy. Why should I spend my 
painfully gathered pennies to save some of your vil- 
lains, young Sir ? What if there was a riot in Sarlat 
as there was fifteen years ago — and the mob fell on 
the Jews? How was it then? Did you not fire our 
houses, and throw our children into the flames, and 
run your pikes into the hearts of our mothers and 
wives? You think we care for you after that ! Let 
your own Christian thieves hamstring their own broth- 
ers. Why do you come to poor Levi to help you — to 
Levi who is helpless among you, and is only suffered 
to live because he is necessary to you? You cannot 
do without him, as now — now, amidst the violences of 
Le Gros Guillem ! ” 

“ And you will not help me,” said Jean, despair- 
ingly. He had no thought for the wrongs endured 
by the Jews, no thought for what made them a neces- 
sity, no thought of the incongruity that while the 
Church denounced usury, the usurers were only able 
5 


60 


NO^:MI. 


to carry on their trade by the Pope and the prelates 
extending their protection to them — for a considera- 
tion in hard cash, paid annually. • 

Again Jean’s eyes met those of Notoi ; he was pale, 
his brow clouded, his lips trembled, as though about 
to address some words to her. 

“What would you say?” she asked. “ Speak out. 
I am not afraid to hear. Levi has been making my 
father responsible for his bloodsucking.” 

“ I would,” said Jean sullenly, “ I would to Heaven 
you could come with me and see the work wrought at 
Ste. Soure ; and if after that you were able to laugh 
and lightly talk of your father as a great man and one 
to be proud of because he is in every mouth — then, 
God help you ! ” 

“ I will come ! ” answered the girl impulsively. 
“ When ? At once ? ” 

Jean looked at her incredulously. 

“ Aye ! ” said she. “ Jacques Tarde has nothing to 
engage him now that he has shaken off the horse- 
leech. He will ride with me, and we will take an- 
other, though I reckon my presence would suffice as a 
protection. None will lay hands on the daughter of 
Le Gros Guillem.” She reared her head in pride. 

“ Be not so sure of that,” said Jean. “ At Ste. 
Soure they would tear you to pieces if they knew who 
you were.” 

“ And you — would look on and let it be ? ” 


THE JEW. 


61 


“ No ; on my lands, whilst under my protection, 
you are safe.” 

“ Under your protection ! ” jeered the girl ! “ Bah ! 
If I stood among a thousand, and shouted, ‘ Ware ! 
Le Gros Guillem is on you ! ’ they would fly on all 
sides as minnows when I throw a stone into the 
water.” She altered her tone and said : “ There, I go 
to do good. I will see my father if he is at his 
church, and I will whisper good thoughts unto him, 
and get him to reduce the ransom. Now, will you 
take me with you ? ” 

“You will trust yourself with me?” 

“Jacques Tarde shall come also. Let anyone dare 
to touch Noemi ! I will come. When shall we 
start ? ” 

“ At once,” answered Jean. 

“ So he it ; at once.” 


CHAPTEE VIL 


THE HEW COMPAHIOH. 

Ohe of the strangest features of a strange time 
was the manner in which families were broken up 
and neighbours were at feud. The same individuals 
shifted sides and were one day boozing together at 
table and the next meeting in deadly conflict. Dis- 
cord was in families. In the house of Limeuil the 
father was French, the son English ; and the son was 
English merely because he desired to turn his father 
out of the ancestral heritage and lord it in his room. 
Limeuil was stormed by the son, then retaken by the 
father ; now sacked by English troops, and then sacked 
again by French troops, who cared nothing for the 
national causes of France or England. Prevost de 
la Force and Perducat d’Albret had castles facing 
each other on opposite sides of the Dordogne. Each 
desired to draw some, money out of the commercial 
town of Bergerac on the plea that he was empowered 
to protect it from the other. Accordingly, one called 

himself French, the other English ; and Perducat, 
63 


THE NEW COMPANION. 


63 


when it suited his convenience, after having been 
English, became French. Domestic broils determined 
the policy of the turbulent seigneurs. If they coveted 
a bit of land, or a village, or a castle that belonged to 
a brother or a cousin of one persuasion, they went 
over to the opposed to supply them with an excuse 
for falling on their kinsmen. The Seigneur de Pons, 
because his marriage settlement with his wife did not 
allow him sufficient liberty to handle her means, 
turned French, and his wife threw open her gates to 
the Duke of Lancaster. Whereupon the seigneur 
fought the English, to whom he had formerly been 
devoted, retook his town, and chastised his wife. The 
man who was French to-day was English to-morrow, 
and French again the day after. Some were very 
weathercocks, turning with every wind, always with 
an eye to their own advantage. 

Consequently, families were much mixed up with 
both parties. Unless a seigneur was out on a raid, 
he would associate on terms of friendliness with the 
very men whom he would hang on the next occasion. 
Kinsfolk were in every camp. The seigneurs had 
allies everywhere ; but their kinsfolk were not always 
their allies — were often their deadliest enemies. 

The mother of Koemi was akin to the family of 
Tarde. Indeed, her aunt was the mother of Jean 
and Jacques, who were, accordingly, her first cousins. 
The Tarde family were French; no one in Gageac 


64 




was English. By interest, by tradition, the place was 
true to the Lilies. 

A little way up the river, on the further side, was 
Domme, which was held by the English. Noemi 
passed from the English to the French town, and 
nothing was thought of it that she was as much at 
home with her cousins in La Eoque Gageac as among 
her mother’s attendants at Domme. Even the young 
Tardes might have gone to the market in the English 
town and have returned unmolested. 

The bullies of Guillem in like manner swaggered 
where they listed, penetrated to Gageac, when there 
was a dance or a drinking bout ; and, so long as they 
came unarmed, were allowed admittance. 

No one could say whether there was peace or war. 
There was a little of one and a little of the other. 
Whenever a roysterer was weary of doing nothing, 
he gathered his men together and made a raid ; when- 
ever a captain wanted to pay his men, he plundered 
a village. Otherwise, all went on tolerably quietly. 
There was no marching across the country of great 
bodies of armed men, no protracted sieges, no battles 
in which whole hosts were engaged. But there was 
incessant fear, there were small violences, there was 
no certainty of safety. There was no central power 
to control the wrong-doers, no justice to mete out 
to them the reward of their deeds. When the lion 
and the wolf and the bear are hungry, then they 


THE NEW COMPANION. 


65 


raven for food ; when glutted, they lie down and 
sleep.* The barons and free captains and little seig- 
neurs were the lions, wolves, and bears that infested 
Guyenne and Perigord. They were now on the alert 
and rending, then ensued a period of quietude. 

Little passed between Jean del’ Peyra and Noemi 
on the way. She was mounted on a fresh horse, and 
attended by two serving-men of the Tardes, as Jacques 
and Jean could not accompany her, having duties 
connected with the little town to discharge that day 
which required their presence. Jean del’ Peyra was 
on his fagged steed, and could not keep up with the 
rest. Jean was not sanguine that the girl would pre- 
vail with her father, but he was grateful that she 
should make the attempt. 

On reaching the point at the junction of the 
Beune with the Vez^re where the roads or tracks di- 
verged, the one to the Church of Guillem, the other 
to the ford at Tayac, Noe mi halted till Jean came up. 

“ I am going to see my father,” she said. “ I will 
come on to Ste. Soure when 1 have his answer — but 
I trust I shall bring to you your men.” 

“ I thank you,” answered the lad. 

“ Come, Jean,” said the girl ; “you will not think 
so ill of me as you have done. Give me your 
hand.” 

“ I cannot think ill now of one who is doing her 
best to relieve my father and me in a case of pressing 


66 


NO^IMI. 


necessity, and of saving seven families from worse 
than death.” ^ 

He put out his hand and pressed hers, but without 
cordiality. The hand he took was that of the daugh- 
ter of the scourge of the country. He could not for- 
get that; he touched the hand of the child of the 
man who had brought desolation into the home of 
the Rossignols. 

Noemi left the attendants with her horse at the 
foot of the steep ascent that led to the Church of 
Guillem. 

The ascent was up a slope of crumbled chalk and 
flints hardly held together by a little wiry grass, some 
straggling pinks, and bushes of box and juniper. 
The incline was as rapid as that of a Gothic house- 
roof. Of path there was none, for every man who 
scrambled up mounted his own way, and his foot- 
prints sent shale and dust over the footprints of his 
predecessor. The plateau through which the river 
has sawn its way is some four hundred feet at the 
highest point above the bed of the stream ; in some 
places the cliffs are not only perpendicular, they over- 
hang. They rise at once from the river that washes 
their bases and undermines them, or from the alluvial 
flats that have been formed by floods. This was not 
the case at L’Eglise Guillem. The stronghold of 
Guillem occupied a terrace in the abrupt scarp where 
it rose out of an immense slope of rubble, very much 


THE NEW COMPANION. 


67 


as at Ste. Soure, a little below it on the further bank. 
Here, as there, the rubble slope was a protection as 
great as a precipice. It was not as difficult to climb, 
but it could not be climbed without those in the 
stronghold being able to roll down rocks, discharge 
weapons at such as were laboriously endeavouring to 
mount. Noemi reached a spring that issued from 
the side of the cliff in a dribble, was received in a 
basin, and the overflow nourished a dense growth of 
maidenhair-fern and moss. It was thence that the 
occupants of the castle derived their drinking-water. 
Hard by was the gateway. Here she was challenged, 
gave her name, and was admitted. 

L’Eglise Guillem was oddly constructed. The 
depth of the caves or concave shelters was not great, 
not above twelve to fifteen feet, consequently would 
not admit of chambers and halls in which many men 
could move about. To gain space, beams had been 
driven into the natural wall of rock at the back of 
the caves, and brought forward to project some eight 
feet over the edge of the cliff. On these projecting 
rafters walls of timber filled in with stone had been 
erected, and lean-to roofs added to cover them, sock- 
eted into the cliff above the opening mouth of the 
cave or series of caves. This is still a method of con- 
struction in the country, with this exception — that 
such modern dwellings are not pendulous in mid-air, 
as were those of the free captains, but are now on 


68 


NOfiMI. 


solid floors, and consist of rooms, one half of which 
are caves, and the other half artificial excrescences. 

By means of this overhanging portion of the castle, 
by a ladder a chamber could be reached, cut out in 
the face of the cliff immediately above the mouth of 
the natural cavern, a chamber at the present day visi- 
ble, but absolutely inaccessible, since the wooden ex- 
crescence has disappeared by which it was reached. 
This upper chamber was the treasury of the castle. 

To the present day not two miles up the valley of 
the Beune is a hamlet, a cluster of houses, called 
Grioteaux, built in a huge cave, but with the fronts 
somewhat beyond the upper lip of the cave ; and in 
the face of the precipice above is precisely such a 
treasure- chamber, only to be reached by means of a 
ladder from the roof of the house below it. 

“ What — you here ! ” exclaimed the Great Guillem 
in surprise, when he saw the girl enter the one room 
in which were himself and his men, about a table, 
on which were scattered chalices from churches, 
women’s jewellery, silken dresses, even sabots plucked 
off the feet of peasants. The captain was dividing 
spoil. 

The Great Guillem was much as Jean del’ Peyra 
had described him — tall, gaunt, with a high head, and 
baldness from his forehead to the crown, his hair 
sandy and turning grey, dense bushy red eyebrow^s, 
the palest of blue eyes, and a profusion of red hair 


THE NEW COMPANION. 


69 


about his jaws. The mouth was large, with thin lips, 
and teeth wide apart and pointed, as though they 
had been filed sharp. Men said he had a double row 
in his jaw. It was the mouth of a shark. 

“ Come here, little cat ! ” shouted the freebooter. 
“ Here are we dogs of war dividing the plunder.” 

“ What plunder, father ? Did you get all these 
silks and trinkets from Ste. Soure ? ” 

“ From Ste. Soure indeed ! Not that ; nothing 
thence but wine-casks and grain ; and a fine matter 
we have had hauling the barrels up into our kennel. 
What do you want with us, child ? ” 

The girl looked at the men ; there were a dozen, 
and her father the thirteenth. They were in rough 
and coarse clothing, each with a red cross on his left 
arm — a badge of allegiance to the Cross of St. George. 
Some of the companies wore a white or blue cross 
when serving no political party, but the Great Guillem 
was ostensibly in the English service, and as such had 
been given the commandantship of Domme. The 
nien had been drinking, and were flushed, partly with 
wine, partly with excitement, as the division of the 
plunder was made by lot, the lot being a knucklebone 
in a bassinet. A lawless, insolent company, and one 
difficult to treat with. 

Noemi was puzzled what to do. But she was a 
bold, spirited girl, and she said : “ This is the first 
time I have been here. I claim largesse.” 


70 


NOfiMI. 


“ Largesse ! ” laughed one of the men ; “ I say — 
the first time anyone enters he pays footing.” 

yes,” said the girl ; “ but with a woman it is 
other. I claim largesse.” 

“ What do you mean ? A share of the loot ? ” 

“ A large share,” answered Noemi. 

“ I have two lots to one ; I will surrender one to 
you,” said Guillem. 

“ Of all the spoil ? ” 

“ Of all for which we are raffling.” 

“ And the men — the seven men you took ? ” 

“ They are not in the game. We wait till the 
ransom comes, and that will be divided not by lot but 

by shares. Money is so divided, not -” Her father 

tossed over some odds and ends with which the table 
was cumbered. 

“I want the seven men,” said Noemi. 

A roar of laughter greeted this demand. 

“ A hundred livres ! That is a fine largesse,” said 
one. 

“ It cannot be,” said Guillem. “ They belong to 
us all.” 

“ Little one,” shouted one half-drunken fellow, 
“we only divide among ourselves — merry compan- 
ions. We take from those who are outside the band.” 

“ But I am the Captain’s daughter.” 

“ That matters not ; you are not a companion.” 

“ Father, give me a lot.” 


THE NEW COMPxiNION. 


71 


“ I will — my lot.” 

“ And grant me a request.” 

“ If you draw the highest lot, you shall have what 
you will — save a share in the loot, and to that you can 
have no right. We have our laws and are bound to 
abide by them.” 

“ Let us draw, then.” 

The bassinet was passed round, and each drew. 
There were fourteen knucklebones in it. NToemi put 
in her hand first and drew, then each in succession. 

“ Hands open,” shouted Guillem, and each fist was 
thrust forward on the table and opened flat, exposing 
the bone. The knuckles were numbered up to four- 
teen. 

‘‘ Fourteen ! ” exclaimed Guillem, as he looked at 
the rude die in his daughter’s palm. 

“ Best of three,” said a man. 

“ Again ! ” called the Captain, after the bones had 
been thrown into the bassinet and shaken. 

The same proceeding was gone through. Again 
each hand was exposed on the table. 

“ Fourteen again ! ” 

“ A woman and the devil have luck ! ” shouted 
one of the men. “ There is no beating that ! ” 

“ Aye ! but there is. If next time she draws one,” 
retorted another. “ She is a woman ; I wish her well.” 

“ Ah ! you Roger ; always honour the petticoat,” 

“ Again ! ” thundered the Captain. 


72 


NOJEMl. 


Once more- hands were plunged into the iron cap, 
withdrawn, and placed clenched on the table. 

“ Reveal ! ” cried Guillem, and immediately the 
hands were turned up with the knuckle-bones. 

“ Fourteen ! ” again he shouted, as he held up the 
piece his daughter had exposed. 

“Was ever luck like this!” stormed one man. 
“ And I — I never draw above five.” 

“ Well ; what is your request? ” asked Guillem. 

“ You have sworn to grant it me.” 

“ Yes ; if not against rule.” 

“ Then make me one of the Company ! ” 

A pause, then a shout : “ The Red Cross ! The 
Red Cross ! Vive the new Companion ! ” 

In an instant a piece of crimson silk brocade, an 
ecclesiastical vestment, was torn to shreds, and the 
rough hands of the freebooters were fastening two 
strips crosswise to Noe mi’s arm. 


CHAPTER VIIL 


m THE devil’s cups. 

“ A HEW companion must justify his election,” 
said the sullen man, who had throughout shown ill 
disposition towards Hoemi. 

“ The new companion shall do so,” answered 
Noemi. A deep colour flushed her olive skin. “For 
that I ask you to follow me, as well as that other 
comrade who was as inclined to be civil as you to be 
insolent. First, send down below and 'bid the two 
servants of the Tardes go on to Ste. Soure and tarry 
there till I go for them.” 

“You — to Ste. Soure?” said her father. 

“ Not now. But I do not desire to have the Tar- 
des’ men with me. They are not of the Company.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ That I will justify my election,” said Noemi. 
“And for that I take these two mates — and no 
others.” 

“It is not well that I go,” said the sulky man. 

“ But, if go I must, it is unwillingly.” 

73 


74 


no^:mi. 


“And I go with all my heart,” said he whose 
name was Roger. 

“ What do you intend to do, child ? ” asked her 
father, puzzled and uneasy. “ This is a farce. Take 
off the cross.” 

“ No, it is no farce. I will not remove the cross 
till I have shown that I am worthy to be enrolled in 
your band.” 

“ Then what will you do ? ” 

“ That is my secret.” 

“ And you demand two of the companions ? ” 

“ Yes ; two of the companions — he named Roger, 
and ” 

“ Amanieu ? ” 

“Roger and Amanieu. I ask that they may ac- 
company me and serve me and do my bidding — on 
my first chevaucheeP 

“La Pucelle! Another Joan! To the English! 
To the English ! Vive la Pucelle de Domme ! We 
will pit her against the Pucelle de Domremi.” The 
men shouted, hammered the table, and tossed the 
knucklebones about. They treated the matter as a 
joke. 

Amanieu, the sulky man, was very angry at be- 
ing fixed upon to make one of a party that would 
incur ridicule and expose him to the jeers of his 
fellows. 

Le Gros Guillem now interfered. “ If my daugh- 


IN THE DEVIL’S CUPS. Y5 

ter has said you are to attend, and I consent, you go. 
Guard her well.” 

Amanieu murmured no more. There was no in- 
subordination in a Company. 

The serving-men of the Tarde brothers were dis- 
missed, and then NToemi prepared to depart along 
with her new attendants. Her father asked no fur- 
ther questions. The horses were brought from a 
stable cut in the rocks. They were nimble and sure 
of footing. Access to the stable was only to be had 
by a drawbridge let fall over a chasm, and from the 
further side of the gap a narrow track descended rap- 
idly to the bottom of the valley. 

At Noe mi’s request the men had drawn on jackets 
that concealed their red crosses, and no one seeing 
the little party would have conjectured that the girl 
was attended by some of the greatest ruffians and cut- 
throats in the country. She knew the character of 
the men, but was not afraid. The fear of her father 
entertained by all the band, and the discipline main- 
tained in the Company, would prevent them from 
doing her harm. 

Guillem was a man of few words, but of decision 
in action. The look of his pale eyes was enough, as 
he sent the men with Noe mi, to take from them any 
spirit of insolence or rebellion had they entertained it. 
They knew without more words than the three ut- 
tered by Guillem, that if she came to harm through 
6 


76 


no^:mi. 


them, by their neglect, in any way, he was the man 
to put them to death by slow and horrible torture. 
They had seen that done once on a comrade who 
had disregarded a half-expressed order. He had been 
roasted over a slow fire. 

The two men asked no questions when Hoemi 
took the road to Sarlat, and along the road she did 
not speak with them. At Sarlat she bade them hold 
back while she went on alone and on foot to make an 
inquiry. Apparently satisfied at what she had learnt, 
she returned to the men, remounted her horse, and 
said, “ Forward ! ” 

She rode along the way to La Eoque, a little ahead 
of the two men. The day was closing in. It would 
be dark by the time they reached her home. 

Presently they came to a long and tedious ascent. 
The way had been at one time paved, but had not 
been repaired for a century. It ran up a hog’s back 
or hill, through coppice that was cut every fourteen 
years for the making of charcoal, direct to the point 
where was the Devil’s Table. 

She halted, and turned to her followers ; and they 
drew rein. 

“Listen to. me,” she said. “You do not know 
whither I am leading you, for what purpose you fol- 
low me, or what is to be gained thereby. But one 
thing you do know, that you are placed under my 
command by Le Gros Guillem, and that you disobey 


IN THE DEVIL’S CUPS. 


7Y 

at your peril. I will tell you wherefore you are fol- 
lowingme; it is for your own advantage. You have 
carried away seven men from the Del’ Peyras, and 
you have put them to ransom at a hundred livres. 
That is a large sum. It is to be divided among you 
into fourteen equal shares. But let me tell you that 
if this sum be not found — you will get nothing. The 
seven men will be no gain to you when cast away 
mutilated. Jean del’ Peyra has been this day to Sar- 
lat, he has been to the Bishop, he has been to the 
Jew Levi, he has been to the Tardes at Gageac, I can- 
not say where he has not been, to whom he has not 
applied — but nowhere can he raise the sum. It was 
too large. But that is no concern of mine. The 
money must be found, or you get nothing. I can 
tell you where the sum is to be found, whence it 
can be taken. But understand this — no more shall 
be exacted than the hundred livres. I will not have 
a denier more, nor a denier less. You agree to 
this ? ” 

“ Yes, we shall be glad of the money ; we do not 
want to hurt the men of Ste. Soure, and their wounds 
are no pay to us.” 

“ Very well. Then we understand each other. 
You would never receive any ransom but for me. It 
is I who bring you where it shall be paid.” 

“ And where is that ? ” asked Amanieu. 

“ On the Devil’s Table,” answered No6mi. 


NOEMI. 


Y8 

The men shrank back. Their superstitious fears 
were aroused. 

“Do not be alarmed. We shall not conjure up 
the foul fiend ; but we shall squeeze one of his ser- 
vants. Let us ride on and await him at the Table.” 

Then she turned towards La Roque, and in silence 
they continued to ascend the hill. 

When they had nearly reached the summit she 
drew up again, and said to the men — 

“ I will explain it all. The Jew Levi comes this 
way. He has been gathering in money at La Roque, 
and my cousins have paid him a large sum. He has 
been engaged there all day, and he made my cousins, 
the Tardes, promise to seud servants with him to see 
him safe on his way back to Sarlat. They agreed to 
send him on his way as far as the Devil’s Table ; and 
he named the time at which he would be ready to 
start. I know, if he has started on his way as he pro- 
posed, that he will be approaching now. From the 
Table onward to Sarlat he would be alone, but alone 
he could not convey all the money. What he pur- 
poses doing I cannot say. We will wait and see. He 
desired that he might be attended all the way to Sar- 
lat, hut that the Tardes would not allow. The dis- 
tance was too great, the men were needed, they would 
not he home till too late. He was forced to accept 
half of what he had asked. Understand, no more is 
to be taken from the Jew than the ransom money. 


IN THE DEVIL’S CUPS. ^9 

It were better that a Jew should lose than that seven 
Christian households should be ruined.” 

The men laughed. They were easy in their minds 
now that they understood they were to play a familiar 
game — only they grudged that they "were to half ac- 
complish it. If they caught a Jew let them squeeze 
and wring him out till not a drop of the golden syrup 
were left in him. 

No6mi had, however, her own ideas in the matter. 
She justified her act to her conscience as a deed of 
necessity. It was a marvel that her conscience felt 
any scruple in the matter, as in the Middle Ages none 
hesitated to defraud a Jew, none considered that a 
son of Israel had any right to have meted out to him 
the like justice as to a Christian. Before the Cathe- 
dral gates at Toulouse every Good Friday a Jew had 
to present himself to have his ears boxed by the Bish- 
op, and to acknowledge in his person on behalf of his 
race its guilt in having crucified the Messiah. 

“ Here ! ” said the girl, tie up your horses and 
mine and lie in the scrub.” 

Before them, on the left hand of the track, rose 
the Devil’s Table ; a mound of earth had anciently 
covered it, but rain had washed away the earth from 
the capstone and showed the points of those blocks 
which upheld it. The slab was a singularly uncouth 
stone, with its flat old bed underneath, the upper sur- 
face uneven and dinted with cup-holes. 


80 




The routiers had not been long in hiding be- 
fore the voice of Levi was heard, and the tramp of 
his ass. 

“ I thank you, good fellows. It was gracious of 
your master to lend me your escort, for. Heaven 
knows ! I am too poor to need one. My ass is laden 
with lentils. You eat them in your fasting times, 
and when not fasting, eat pig. I cannot touch the 
unclean meat, and so eat lentils all the year. All my 
little moneys I carried with me have been expended 
in lentils for my wife Eachel and me. Ah ! this must 
last us a long time. We are so poor, and lentils are 
so dear.” 

“ You will give us something to drink your health, 
Levi,” asked one of Tardes’ men. 

“ Oh ! certainly. Open both your hands and I will 
fill them with lentils. When Daniel, Shadrach, Me- 
shach, and Abednego were in the palace of King Da- 
rius, they refused the meats from the King’s table 
that they might eat lentils. And they grew fat ! Oh ! 
Father Abraham, so sleek that their faces shone, and 
all the young ladies ran after them. Open your 
hands and I will give you lentils, and all the fair 
maids of La Roque will admire you.” 

The men laughed. “ Come, come, Jew, keep the 
pulse for yourself, and give us something more solid — 
money — and we will drink your health.” 

“ Money ! ” exclaimed Levi ; “ as if I had money ! 


IN THE DEVIL’S CUPS. 


81 


Oh, Fathers of the Covenant ! poor Levi with money ! 
— that is a comical idea. You are jesting with me, and 
I like a jest.” 

Those lying in wait listened to the altercation that 
ensued — the men murmured, then there ensued an 
outcry from the Jew and a burst of laughter from the 
men — they had raised and thrown down on the ground 
the sack which the ass was carrying. 

The Jew shouted and entreated and swore, but to 
no avail. The two serving- men ran off on their way 
back to La Koque Gageac, full of glee, rejoicing that 
they had served the man such a trick, for they well 
knew that he would hardly be able to replace the sack 
on his ass. 

After Levi had convinced himself that his appeals 
were in vain, he returned to the fallen sack, and 
vainly endeavoured to lift it upon the ass. He could 
raise it at one end, but not bear the entire weight. 
He became very angry, and grumbled and cursed, and 
prayed to Heaven for assistance. 

Then, as his sole chance, he endeavoured to roll 
the sack up the sephlchral mound, and so to tilt it on 
to the Devil’s Table. By that means, if he drew up 
his ass by the mouth of the burial-chamber, where 
treasure-seekers had grubbed and made a hollow, he 
hoped to be able to replace the burden on the back 
that was to bear it. 

“ Oh, Fathers Abraham, Isaac, and Mother Sarah ! ” 


82 


NOEMI. 


lamented the Jew, “ come to me in my necessity and 
help me.” 

“We are here ! ” 

Hands were laid on his shoulder. With a scream 
of fear he spang back, and saw two male and a female 
figure before him. Dusk had set in, and he could not 
distinguish who they were. 

“ Jew ! ” said Noemi, “ we want a hundred livres.” 

“ A hundred lentils ! Let me go ! Help me with 
my sack, and they are yours.” 

“ Jew ! ” said the girl ; “ do not delay us and your- 
self. We will escort you within sight of the lights 
of the town — when you have paid us the hundred 
livres.” 

“ Hear her. Father Abraham !” cried the unhappy 
man. “ She thinks that I have money, who have only 
a few lentils on which to feed my wife and me.” 

“ I know what you have,” said Noemi. “ You 
have all the money paid you by the Tardes.” 

“ It is a lie — I have been paid no money ; I have 
been given a sack of lentils instead.” 

“ Levi — I was present when it was paid.” 

“ You — you are a Tarde ! and the Tardes are 
thieves ! ” 

“ I am not a Tarde.” 

“ You are a Tarde — and these are Tardes’ servants, 
and you will cheat and rob me. I shall appeal to the 
Bishop ! ” 


IN THE DEVIL’S CUPS. 


83 


“ Strike a light,” said the girl. “ Let the man see 
who we are.” 

With a flint and steel Amanieu produced sparks, 
and presently held a wisp of dry grass blazing over his 
head. 

“ Look here,” said Noemi. “ Do you know this?” 
She showed the red cross on her arm. “ Look at the 
shoulders of my mates. Do you know who they are ? 
Do you know me ? lam Le Gros Guillem’s daughter. 
Open your sack.” 

“ Oh, pity me ! Pity me ! ” sobbed the terrified 
Jew. 

“ One hundred livres — not a denier under, not a 
denier over,” answered the girl. “ See, in the Devil’s 
Table are ten saucers ; put ten livres into each, and 
you, Amanieu, and you, Roger, count. Jew, when the 
last coin is paid, you shall go on with the rest. You 
do not stir till the sum is paid that I require.” 

The Jew faltered, trembled, stuttered some unin- 
telligible words. 

“ Levi ! ” said Noemi, “ you know how Guillem’s 
men deal with the refractory. Ho ! a string here for 
his thumbs.” 

The ten cups were filled. 


CHAPTER IX. 


A SIKGED GLOVE. 

A COMMOTION, suppressed in outward manifesta- 
tion, agitated Ste. Soure. Very little work was being 
done in the fields and vineyards. What work was 
done had little reference to agriculture. 

Men hurried about, but were cautious not to allow 
it to be seen by anyone at a distance what their occu- 
pation was. 

In a place like Ste. Soure, in a valley between 
precipices, nothing was easier than for a spy to ob- 
serve all that was going on in a village. If on this 
occasion one commissioned by the Captain of the 
Pree Company that occupied I’Eglise Guillem had 
stationed himself at a suitable point, he would have 
seen that Ste. Soure was alive, but would not have 
been able to distinguish what engaged the inhabit- 
ants. 

He would, indeed, have noticed the peasants 
bringing together their faggots of vine-prunings, have 

heard the bleating of sheep that were being killed, 
84 


A SINGED GLOVE. 


85 


and later, had the wind blown his way, have noticed 
that the air was impregnated with the odour of 
melted tallow. 

That the people of Ste. Soure should be in a con- 
dition of more liveliness than usual* would not have 
surprised him, after the event of the rush made on 
the place by the Free Companions, -and the capture of 
some of the householders. 

But no spy was sent to observe the doings of the 
villagers. The usual watch was kept from the eyrie of 
the Church of Guillem, but from it the village of Ste. 
Soure and the Castle of Le Peuch were not visible. 

The sudden raid had so quelled the inhabitants 
that no danger was anticipated from that quarter. 
What was Ogier del’ Peyra but a little Seigneur? So 
little that it was not worth while for any of the big 
men in the neighbourhood to sustain his cause. In 
those rough times the small men were pinched out. 
Only the great ones held their own. There was no 
security for any man who stood in independence, un- 
less he were very great indeed. In an earlier age the 
soil had belonged to many hundreds and thousands of 
free landholders, who owed no man anything except a 
slight tax in money or kind to the Duke of Aquitaine 
or to the Count of Perigord. But that condition of 
affairs was past. The little freemen had been broken 
in pieces by the violence of the marauders, of the 
barons, by their own mutual quarrels, and nearly all 


86 


NOfiML 


had surrendered their independence into the hands of 
great Seigneurs in their neighbourhood ; they had 
given up their freedom in return for assurance of pro- 
tection. 

Ogier del’ Peyra, however, represented one of the 
few families which had not thus passed into vassalage. 
For that very reason he was viewed askance by the 
barons of the neighbourhood, to whichever faction 
they belonged ; and as none of them were bound to 
sustain his cause, not one of them, as Ogier well knew, 
would draw sword in his behalf against so redoubtable 
an adversary as Le Gros Guillem, and would be still 
less inclined to advance him money. 

Not only did Ogier know this, but the Free Cap- 
tain knew it also ; and, knowing it, thought it not 
worth the pains to observe the movements of the man 
he had plundered, and whom he despised. 

• One thing did Guillem regret — that he had not 
taken Le Peuch, the refuge and stronghold of the 
Del’ Peyras ; but just as Ogier knew his weakness and 
insulation, so had he accumulated precautions against 
attack. His fortress, or castle, was situated in a simi- 
lar position to that of Guillem, at the head of a steep 
rubble slope, but it was stronger immeasurably than 
that of the “ Church,” for the cliff above it was vastly 
more lofty, and it was literally honeycombed with 
chambers. It w^as precisely due to the fact that the 
habitation of the family was in the rock, and of the 


A SINGED GLOVE. 


87 


rock, as already intimated, that they had received 
their name of Del’ Peyra. Had not the villagers been 
completely taken by surprise when the Companions 
fell on Ste. Soure, they would have carried off their 
valuables, and taken refuge themselves in inaccessible 
places, and left only their empty houses to be ran- 
sacked by the freebooters. 

Long exemption from molestation had made them 
careless. 

It was customary with the robber bands not to 
devastate the hamlets and villages and farms in their 
immediate neighbourhood. ^They needed the daily 
supplies of food that the peasants could furnish, and 
they bought these, and maintained a good understand- 
ing with the peasantry. When they foraged it was at 
a distance. It was precisely because “ I’Eglise ” was 
so near to Ste. Soure that the villagers had not antici- 
pated an onslaught. 

Now, although the peasants on the opposite side 
of the river, who were under the shadow of the crags 
occupied by the routiers knew themselves to be safe, 
and found a market for their produce, yet they had 
no love for their tyrannisers. They were sufficiently 
shrewd to be aware that they were exposed to be plun- 
dered, their houses wasted, their wives and daughters 
carried off by other freebooters, or even by ordinary 
Companions-in-Arms, such as claimed to serve the 
French. The Counts of Perigord — who should have 


88 ' 


NO^IML 


been their protectors — were leaders in violence, at the 
head of several lawless bands, and usually marched 
under the leopards, so that the ban of the French 
king had been launched against one Count after 
another, and he only returned to allegiance for a 
moment, to break faith at the first occasion. The 
Castle of Montignac, the headquarters of these 
countly scoundrels, lay high up the same valley of 
the V6zere ; and the ruffians of the Count passed 
up and down it, traversing the fields and villages con- 
tinually. It was to them a matter of supreme indif- 
ference which crown was supposed to exercise author- 
ity and afford protection where they went, for neither 
possessed any real authority, neither afforded the 
smallest protection. 

Ogier del’ Peyra sat in the porch of the church 
issuing orders, and his son was by him. 

All at once a child on the roof of the church cried 
out — 

“ I see — I see — seven men coming, and a lady rid- 
ing ; and I think one is our Petiton.” 

“ What ! our men ! ” exclaimed Ogier ; and Jean 
ran to the roof of the church to look. 

He was down directly after. “ Father, there is no 
doubt of it. Gros Guillem’s daughter is bringing 
^ them here.” 

“As a gift? Hoes he restore them free of ran- 
som ? ” exclaimed Ogier. “ If so we cannot proceed.” 


A SINGED GLOVE. 


89 


“ I will run and meet them,” said Jean. 

The tidings spread like wildfire that the men who 
had been carried off were on their way home. Jean 
hastened to the river side and was ferried over. 

“ I have brought them ! ” said Noemi when she 
saw him. Her eye was flashing with pleasure. “ See 
— they are all here.” 

“ Did your father surrender them? ” 

She laughed. “ I bought them. I paid the ran- 
som.” 

“ You ! Where did you get the money ? ” 

“ See.” She exposed her arm with the red cross. 
“I won my spurs. I robbed the Jew. Now you do 
not think so ill of me, say that.” She leaned from 
her horse to look into his eyes. 

He averted his face. 

“ I thank you for the men. I hate the deed.” 

“ The man was but a Jew ! ” pleaded Noemi. 

“And a robbery is but a robbery,” answered Jean. 

The girl bit her lips and frowned. 

“ This is what I get by that I have done, and I 
have ridden all night to gratify you. I asked my 
father. I entreated that the men might be let go 
free. He would not hearken. Then I did this. I 
could not get the men discharged in any other way. 
Let them go back,” said the girl sullenly; “back 
into bonds and be served as was threatened. You 
are content so long as the Jew has his moneys.” 


90 


NOfiMI. 


“ Not so. The men are free — they cannot go 
back. I had rather they had been freed by any other 
means.” 

“ And by any other person — say it all ! ” 

“I will not say that. There, Noemi,” said the 
young man, laying his hand on the horse’s neck, “ I 
know you meant kindly and right by us. It is not 
your fault ; it is the fault of your blood ; it is the 
fault of the times that you have gone about it in a 
wrong way.” 

“ There was no other way.” 

“ I do not say that. I was going to Bergerac to 
raise the money there.” 

“ And pawn your inheritance to a Christian usurer 
who is worse than a Jew. You have your men, you 
have your land — be content. If wrong is done, I did 
it.” Noemi abandoned her horse and entered the 
ferry-boat with the men and Jean. 

The joy, the tears, the passionate affection with 
which the recovered men were welcomed, clung to by 
their wives and children and friends, moved the girl, 
and her cheek grew pale and her eyes filled. Jean 
observed the emotion and said nothing to her, but to 
himself he breathed : “ She is not heartless ! The 
good is not all dead in her.” 

Some of the women, supposing rightly that the 
men owed their release to Noemi, but not knowing 
who she was, came to her, took her hand, kissed it, 


A SINGED GLOVE. 


91 


knelt and put to their lips the hem of her skirt. She 
was abashed, and shrank back. 

“You shall see,” said Jean. “I will show you 
from what you have saved these poor fellows ! ” 

He led her into the cottage of the Kossignols, and 
she remained silent, apparently cold, looking at the 
crippled man. 

“ Can you sit up ? ” she asked, after a long pause. 

“ Sit up — yes,” he said, and moved his elbow and 
heaved himself up ; “ but it opens the wounds again.” 

“ And — can you put your feet down ? ” 

“ Feet ; I’ll never do that more.” 

“ Nor stand ? ” 

“ God help me ! Never stand before man, never 
kneel before God. I’m a young man ; I’m five-and- 
twenty, and have got three children. I’ll never do 
aught but lie as a log all the years I have to live ! ” 

“ There is a trifle for you,” said No6mi, putting 
money into his hand. “ I would I had more. Hush ! 
I cannot bear that ! ” 

The poor woman, still half distraught, now worked 
to further excitement by the return of the seven men 
safe and sound, while her own husband lay in irre- 
coverable wretchedness, broke into a storm of curses 
against Le Gros Guillem, and of blasphemy against 
God. It was more horrible to hear her than to see 
the man, who bore his lot not so much with patience 

as with stolidity. 

7 


92 


NO^IMI. 


Then in came Ogier del’ Peyra. 

“ So,” said he, “ you have released my men ! Did 
Le Gros Guillem let them pass out of his hands for 
nothing ? ” 

“ I paid him the hundred livres,” said No6mi, 
speaking with difficulty. Something was in her 
throat choking her. 

“ Then,” said Ogier, “ we owe him no debt ? ” 

“ None at all.” 

“And you are returning there — I mean to him — 
to the Church ? ” 

“ I go to see him again.” 

“ What debt of gratitude we owe is to you — not to 
him?” 

Noe mi nodded. 

“ Then, let me say this : Do not stay at the 
Church.” 

“ I am not going to stay there. I shall but say 
farewell to ” the girl hesitated, looked at the crip- 

pled Kossignol, at his crazy wife, and concluded her 
sentence in an undertone — “ to him, and then away to 
Domme.” 

“ It is well. Mark my words. Do not stay there 
— not a night — not a night.” 

“ Why so ? ” 

“Why so? Do you ask that? Is not the wrath 
of God hanging as a thundercloud over that rock ? Is 
it not full charged with lightnings ? When it bursts 


A SINGED GLOVE. 


93 


will it spare the innocent ? Will it not involve all in 
one sudden destruction? Mark my words; do not 
tarry there — no, not an hour. Your men who came 
with you are here. They are at Le Peuch, and ready 
to attend you on your return. Do not tarry. Take 
counsel. L’Eglise de Guillem is no place for inno- 
cent maidens. It is no church where are holy thoughts 
and devout prayers — it is the Church of the Foul 
Fiend, and the mouth of the bottomless pit yawns 
there.” 

“ I thank you,” said NToemi. “ I know what it is. 
I am not going to tarry there.” 

“ There is one favour I ask of you,” said the old 
man. “ It is to take a message from me to — to the 
Big Guillem.” 

“ I will take it.” 

“ Tell him that when one gentleman is about to 
do the other the favour of a visit he sends a notice 
that he is coming. That is true courtesy. He forgot 
to do that to me. I was not ready to receive him 
with hospitality. Now, render me the grace to hand 
him this.” 

Ogier extended to the girl a leather glove singed 
by fire and the ends of the fingers burnt off. 

Noemi hesitated to take it. 

“ Do not fear,” said the old man ; “ it will not hurt 
you. It is but a token. Your fa — I mean Le Gros 
Guillem, will accept the courtesy. Take it, and go.” 


94 


NO^IMI. 


An hour later Noemi was in the Church of Guil- 
lem and before her father. 

Somewhat hesitatingly she held out to him the 
singed glove. 

“ The Sieur del’ Peyra sends you this,” she said. 

Le Gros Guillem took the glove, threw it on the 
table, and burst out laughing. 

“ The mouse defies the lion ! Good ! This is good ! 
I thank you, Noemi, for bringing me this; it is a 
right merry jest. I drink to his visit ! May he come 
speedily.” 


CHAPTER X. 


BY FIEE. 

A STRAN'GE stillness came over the V^z^re valley 
that evening at sundown. Hardly a man was about, 
not a sound was heard save the barking of a dog in a 
farm on one side of the river, and the answer of an- 
other dog in one on the further side. There was, 
however, a mysterious hiss in the air about every 
dwelling and cluster of habitations. How and then a 
woman was seen, but it was to call in her children 
who had run out, and, forgetful of all that had passed, 
had begun to play. 

The sun went down in the west, painting the rocks 
on the left bank of the Vezere a daffodil yellow, and 
then slowly a cold, death-like grey stole over the land- 
scape. With the sun the life had gone ; and yet, 
strange to say, no sooner had this dead glaze come 
over the face of Nature than the human beings woke 
to activity and began to issue from their houses, cau- 
tiously at first, then with greater boldness as the shad- 
ows thickened. The men bore their reaping-hooks, 

95 


96 


NO^]MI. 


their pruning-knives strapped to the end of poles, 
converting them into formidable weapons. Others 
had their bills thrust through their leather belts ; and 
every bill and knife was fresh sharpened, explaining 
the significance of the strange hiss which had been 
in the air. It had been caused by the grindstones and 
the files in every house. 

Presently the men who had been standing in knots 
were marshalled into two distinct parties or bands. 
One, armed with their extemporised halberds and 
lances, remained in Ste. Soure under Ogier, whereas 
the other division, laden with sacks, with casks, with 
loads of faggots, passed over the river, were joined by 
a contingent from the left bank of the Vezere, and 
proceeded to ascend the hills. Behind this party, 
borne by four men, was Rossignol, lying on his bed. 
His wife desired to follow, and was with difficulty re- 
strained and sent back to take care of her children. 
Silently, patiently, the men ascended the steep flanks 
of the hillside, each bearing his burden; even the 
wounded Rossignol endured the inevitable jerking 
without a murmur. 

A word must here be given to explain the salient 
character of the country. Originally a vast region in 
Perigord — the Black Perigord, as it was called from 
its sombre woods and deep cleft ravines, was one pla- 
teau of hard chalk, raised from six hundred and fifty 
to nine hundred feet above the sea. At some geologic 


BY FIRE. 


97 


period difficult to define an immense rush of water 
passed over the plain and tore every rent formed by 
the upheaval of the chalk into gorge and gully, down 
which the furious waters poured, scooping out the 
sides and tearing themselves away. The course taken 
by the fiood is easily recognisable by this fact — that it 
has left its wash on the tops of the plateau, where to 
the present day lies a film of caoline, that is to say of 
feldspathic clay, the produce of the granite ranges to 
the north and north-east; and this caoline lies in 
some places in considerable pockets, white as chalk, 
and only distinguishable from chalk by the experi- 
enced eye, and lies in sufficiently important beds to 
be worked and exported to porcelain factories. Nay, 
more than this : on the top of these great plateaux of 
chalk are strewn boulders and pebbles of volcanic pro- 
duction, that were derived unmistakably from the far 
away Auvergne mountains. 

The flood that swirled over the chalk plains not 
only tore them into islets, and ate out paths through 
every chink, but also left the surfaces undulating, hav- 
ing washed away what beds were soft and left those 
which were hard. 

These plateaux are more or less untenanted by 
human beings, because more or less soilless. They are 
given over to forest or to baldness. 

The ravines, the river-valleys, are walled in by 
precipices with gulfs here and there in their sides 


98 




where the rock has crumbled away, or caverns have 
collapsed, and which allow, as lateral combes, access 
to the riverside. Up such a combe did the peasants 
now toil, zigzaging, corkscrewing their way, far to the 
rear of the headland of I’Eglise Guillem, and wholly 
invisible from it. 

The Captain had so far paid attention to the 
challenge conveyed by the scorched glove as to give 
the sentinel on the gate-tower warning to be on the 
alert, but he had neglected to post anyone on the top 
of the cliff that overhung his eagle nest. He antici- 
pated no danger from that quarter, for his castle was 
inaccessible thence, unless, what was inconceivable, 
assailants should descend on him like spiders from 
above, at the end of ropes. 

“ Bah ! ” scoffed the Chieftain ; “ a boor ! What 
is Del’ Peyra but a country clown ? I will teach him 
such a lesson in a day or two as will make him skip. 
There is not a Seigneur in the land will lend him 
half-a-dozen horsemen.” 

There was, however, an incident in the past that 
had entirely escaped the memory of Guillem, even if 
he had heard of it. 

At the end of the twelfth century, a carpenter, 
Durand by name, had roused the peasants to free 
themselves of their oppressors. What the king could 
not, what the nobles would not do, that they had 
done. They had assembled in great multitudes, as- 


BY FIRE. 


99 


sumed a white linen hood, called themselves “The 
Brotherhood of Peace,” and hoped to initiate an era 
of tranquillity by massacring without mercy every 
routier in the land. They had butchered many thou- 
sands, had defeated them in pitched battles, but had 
themselves been quelled by a combination of the 
nobles when they attempted to interfere with their 
turbulence. 

That was a matter of two centuries ago, and was 
not likely to be repeated. Two hundred years of the 
scourge had whipped every vestige of independence 
out of the peasants. The Free Companion of the 
fourteenth and fifteenth century no more feared a 
combination against him among the peasants than 
the latter anticipated a revolt in his henroost whence 
he gathered his eggs. But something had occurred 
in the north of the land — in France proper — the 
rumour of which had travelled throughout the coun- 
try, and which, dimly, feebly, had brought out the 
idea of national feeling in the south — that was the 
great success of the French under the Maid of Or- 
leans. Heaven had interfered ; the Saints had inter- 
ested themselves for the afflicted people, for the hum- 
bled Crown. The Spirit of God, as in the days of 
old, had raised up a deliverer — and that deliverer a 
woman. 

The advent of the Maid of Domremi was of the 
past, but not forgotten. There was something in 


100 


NOfiMI. 


the story of Joan to rouse the imagination of a lively 
and excitable people, and to make them believe that 
the time was come when Heaven would interfere to 
assist their feeble arms. 

The outrage committed at Ste. Soure on Eos- 
signol, the threat hanging over seven others, had 
served to rouse the peasantry of the neighbourhood, 
and as one man they placed themselves under the 
direction of Ogier, a Seigneur indeed, but in so small 
a way, as to be but a step removed from the peasant ; 
a man whom they could almost consider as one of 
themselves, and yet sufficiently raised above them to 
be able to command obedience, and not incur their 
jealousy. 

As the train of laden men toiled up the ascent, 
they were joined by charcoal-burners from the cop- 
pice with their forks, who fell in, relieved some of 
the most heavily burdened and said no word. One 
resolution, one hate, animated the whole mass, com- 
bined to make one effort to shake off the detested 
incubus. It was marvellous how rapidly and how 
quietly the conjuration had been formed. 

When the body of men had reached the top of 
the hill and were on the plain, they found men there 
awaiting them from villages beyond, animated by the 
same spirit, ready to move in the same direction, and 
to carry out the warfare in the same way, for they 
also were laden like those from Ste. Soure. 


BY FIRE. 


101 


The whole troop now advanced through the brush- 
wood to the bare space above the precipice where trees 
were scanty. 

The night had become very obscure. It was hard 
to distinguish where the foot could be placed in safety. 
The very dearth of trees, moreover, warned the men 
to advance with extreme caution. 

Jean del’ Peyra had drawn a white sleeve over his 
right arm, and this was visible in the murkiness of 
ever-deepening darkness. With this white arm he 
gave the signals. Orders were communicated in 
whispers. Behind, under the coppice, at no great 
distance, was a charcoal-burner’s heap. The men 
who attended to the steaming pile stood by it with 
their spades and prongs. 

Jean raised his white arm. At once those behind 
him in a chain did the same. At the signal a char- 
coal-burner drove his fork into the fuming mass, 
made an opening, and a flame shot up. Next moment 
a sod was cast on the gap and the flame extinguished. 

One, two, three, four — to twenty-flve, counted 
Jean. Again he lifted his white arm. Again the 
signal was telegraphed back to the charcoal-burners, 
and again was an opening made and a tongue of fire 
shot up, to be again instantly extinguished. 

One, two, three, four — to twenty-five. A third 
time Jean raised his arm, and a third time the gleam 
of flame mounted and was blotted out. 


102 


no^:mi. 


A pause of expectation. 

Then from the valley — from the further side of 
the Vezere — a flash. 

One, two, three, four — to twenty-flve. 

A second flare. 

One, two, three, four — to twenty-five. 

A third gleam. 

“ My father is ready,” whispered Jean. “ Now we 
must find the exact spot.” 

It is one thing to know where is a cave or, indeed, 
any object marking the face of a cliff when seen from 
below and quite another to discover that same cave, 
to find out when and where • you are immediately 
above it as you walk on the summit of the precipice. 
Every feature that marks a site as seen from below 
fails when you stand above. 

If this be the case in broad daylight what must 
it be by night? 

There was but one way in which Jean del’ Peyra 
could discover the exact position of the Church of 
Guillem, and that was by being held by the feet and 
extending himself, lying prostrate, over the edge of 
the cliff. Leaning over the abyss he looked below 
and to the right and left in the darkness, then signed 
to be withdrawn. 

“ Too much to the left ! ” he said. 

He walked cautiously along the edge till he came 
to what he believed to be the right spot. Again he 


BY FIRE. 


103 


was extended over the brink, and was again out in his 
reckoning. 

A third attempt was more successful. With a 
rapid wave of his hand he signed, and was drawn back. 

“ I have looked down their chimney,” he said, 
“and heard their laughter come up with the reek, 
and seen the glow of their hearth. Here! build it 
here ! ” - 

At once a hundred hands were engaged in piling 
up faggots, heaping casks on them and emptying the 
sacks over the wood. These sacks had been filled 
with mutton fat. Stones also were planted on the 
extreme edge. The process was slow. Caution had 
to be used lest any of the combustible matter should 
fall over before set alight, and, dropping on the pro- 
jecting roof or galleries, give the alarm. 

The wall of stones erected outside the faggots 
served a double purpose. In the first place it con- 
tained the masses of pine- wood and other combusti- 
bles, and preserved them from lapse, but the main 
object aimed at was, when overthrown, to break in the 
tiles of the roof so as to allow the molten pitch from 
the barrels and the flaming tallow to run in among 
the woodwork and set it on fire. But for this, there 
would be no assurance of success. 

Considerable time was allowed to pass. It was 
thought advisable not to precipitate action, but to 
allow the freebooters to retire to rest. 


104 


NO^IMI. 


The men seated themselves in perfect stillness on 
the grass and on stones. On the inner face of the 
enormous pile of combustibles lay Rossignol on his bed. 

The night was without wind. Not a leaf stirred — 
there was not even a whisper among the short grass — 
only the continuous twitter of the crickets and, now 
and then from far below, yet audible at that height, 
the croak of a bullfrog in a backwater of the Yezdre. 

The sky had been overspread with clouds, which 
had rendered the night one of pitch blackness ; but 
these dissolved. Whither they went was inexplicable 
— they were not rolled away by the wind, but appeared 
to evaporate, and let the stars shine through. Then, in 
the starlight, the valley below became visible, and the 
river gleamed up, reflecting the feeble light in the sky. 

A low-lying fog formed in the valley of the Beune, 
and lay upon the spongy level, like a fall of sleet. 

Jean made a sign ; he was again thrust forward 
over the edge of the cliff, and remained for some min- 
utes looking down and listening. 

Then slowly, with upraised hand, he made the 
requisite signal. He was hastily drawn back. 

“ All is still,” he said. “ The fire is nearly out.” 

“ Then the other fire shall be kindled ! ” said one 
of the men. 

“ Nicole ! ” said Jean. “ A brand.” 

The man addressed went to the charcoal burner’s 
heap. A thrill ran through the throng. All rose to 


BY FIRE. 105 

their feet; even the mutilated man on the mattress 
lifted himself to a sitting posture. 

Silently the men moved between the faggots and 
the wall of loose stones they had raised, each armed 
with a stout pole. 

Jean put a cow-horn to his mouth and blew a blast 
that rang into the night as the blast of Judgment. 
Instantly the rocks and stones w^ere levered over the 
edge, and instantly the brand, spluttering and blazing, 
was put into the hand of Rossignol. 

It was fitting that he should light the pyre — he 
who had most suffered. That was why he had been 
borne to the head of the cliff. 

Rossignol drove the fiaming torch into the mass of 
vine-faggots, and instantly up leaped the flame. It 
ran aloft in the mass, licked and lighted the tallow, it 
caressed, then exploded the casks of tar, and the whole 
pyre roared as a beast ravening for its prey. 

And its prey was given it. 

With their forks, with staves, the whole flaming, 
raging mass was cast over the edge after the avalanche 
of stones had been discharged.* 


* The rock castles on the Vezere and the Dordogne all bear 
traces of having been burnt. History is silent, but tradition 
among the peasantry is very precise. They state that it was 
they who, at the close of the Hundred Years’ War, ridded them- 
selves of the Free Companies, and that they did it by the means 
described in this chapter. 


CHAPTER XL 


THE TEH CROSSES. 

Ogier del’ Peyra, with a much larger body of 
men, murderously, if not well, equipped, had left Ste. 
Soure an hour after the departure of Jean. The 
Vez^re makes a great sweep to meet the Beune, but, 
as though disgusted at the , insignificance of its 
tributary, after having received its waters, it at once 
turns and fiows in an almost directly opposite direc- 
tion, leaving a broad, flat tongue of land round which 
it curls, a tongue of rich alluvial soil, interspersed 
with gravel’ that is purple in autumn with crocus, 
and in summer blue with salvia. 

Here the party, headed by Ogier, waited in pa- 
tience till the signal flashed thrice from the heights 
opposite, when it was immediately answered by three 
corresponding flares of dry grass. 

Then Ogier and his men, under cover of the dark- 
ness, moved up the river to the ford, waded across 
the water, and cautiously crept along the river bank 

among the osiers in straggling line, till they had 
106 


THE TEN CROSSES. 


lor 


reached a suitable point below the “ Church.” From 
this point they could see the lights from the windows 
of that unhallowed edifice shining before them, half- 
way up the sky like stars, but stars of lurid hue. 

Then they sat down in the dewy grass and waited. 
Hour passed after hour. The stars before them waxed 
faint and went out. 

Then, suddenly, bringing all to their feet, came 
the peal of the horn, echoed and re-echoed from every 
cliff, and followed by a crash and a flare. 

The scene that ensued was one such as none who 
witnessed it had ever had a chance of beholding be- 
fore, or were likely to see again. 

The immense pile of brushwood and fat and other 
fuel caught with rapidity and rose in a burst of flame 
high up, as it were in mid-heaven, followed immedi- 
ately by its being poured over the lip of the preci- 
pice, the molten, blazing tar, the incandescent fat, 
streaked the cliff as with rivers of light, fell on the 
projecting roof, ran in through the interstices cre- 
ated by the fall of stones that had shivered the cov- 
ering tiles, and set fire to the rafters they had pro- 
tected. 

Dense volumes of swirling red smoke, in which 
danced ghostly jets of blue flame, rolled about the 
habitation of the robber band, and penetrated to its 
interior. It broke out of the windows in long spirals 
and tongues, forked as those of adders. 

8 


108 


NO^IMI. 


The rocks up the Vez^re were visible, glaring 
orange, every tree was lit up, and its trunk turned to 
gold. The Vezere glowed a river of flame; clouds 
that had vanished gathered, crowding to see the spec- 
tacle, and palpitated above it. 

“Forward!” yelled Ogier, and the whole party 
rushed up the steep ascent. 

For one reason it would have been better had 
they crept up the steep slope before the horn was 
blown, so as to be ready at once to burst the gates 
and occupy every avenue. But Ogier had considered 
this course, and had deemed the risk greater than the 
advantage. To climb the rubble slope without dis- 
placing the shale was impossible; to do so without 
making sufiicient noise to alarm the sentinel was 
hardly feasible in such a still night. This might 
have been done in blustering wind and lashing rain, 
not on such a night as that when the bullfrog’s call 
rang down the valley and was answered by another 
frog a mile distant. 

The ascent was arduous ; it could not have been 
made easily in pitch darkness ; now it was effected 
rapidly by the glare of the cataract of falling Are and 
of blazing rafters. 

In ten minutes, with faces streaming, with lungs 
blowing, the peasants reached the gate-house. They 
beat at it with stones, with their flsts ; they drove 
their pikes at it, but could not open it. 


THE TEN CROSSES. 


109 


Then a man — it was one of those who had been 
taken and confined in the castle — bid all stand back. 
He buckled on to his feet a sort of spiked shoe, with 
three prongs in each sole, and held a crooked axe in 
his hand. 

“ I have not been in there for nothing,” laughed 
he. “ I saw what they had for climbing walls, and 
I’ve made the like at my forge.” 

Then he went to the wall, drove in the end of his 
pick, and in a moment, like a cat, went up from stone 
course to stone course, till he reached the summit of 
the wall, when he threw aside his foot-grapnels and 
leaped within. In the panic caused by the sudden 
avalanche of stones and fire the sentinel had deserted 
the gate. The oak doors were cast open, and the 
whole body of armed men burst in. 

They found the small garrison huddled together, 
paralysed with fear, all their daring, their insolence, 
their readiness on an occasion gone. They stood like 
sheep, unable to defend themselves, and were taken 
without offering any resistance. 

The surprise was so complete, the awfulness of the 
manner in which they were visited was so overwhelm- 
ing, that the ruffians did not know whether they 
were not called to their final account, and whether 
their assailants were not fiends from the flaming abyss. 

It had come on them in the midst of sleep when 
stupefied with drink. 


110 


NOl^Ml. 


“ Follow me ! ” ordered Ogier, and he led the way 
through fallen flakes of fire, smouldering beams, and 
smoking embers, to a portion of the castle that was 
intact. It consisted wholly of a cavern faced up with 
stone, and the cataract of fire had not reached it, or 
had not injured it. 

“ Bring the prisoners to me,” said Ogier. “ Where 
is the Captain ? Where is Le Oros Guillem ? ” 

The head of the band was not taken. 

“ Disperse — seek him everywhere ! ” ordered Del’ 
Peyra. 

The men ran in every possible direction. They 
searched every cranny. 

“He has escaped up the ladder to the Last 
Refuge ! ” shouted one. The Last Refuge was the 
chamber excavated above the projecting roof of the 
castle, cut in the solid rock. 

“ He cannot,” said another, “ the ladder was the 
first thing to burn. See, it is in pieces now.” 

“ If he be there,” scoffed a third, “ let him there 
abide. He can neither get up nor down.” 

“I do not think he is there. He is in Hell’s 
Mouth.” 

This Hell’s Mouth was the tortuous cavern open- 
ing upon the ledge of rock occupied by the castle. 

“ If he is there, who will follow him ? ” asked one. 

“ Aye ! who — when the foul fiend will hide him.” 

“ I do not believe it,” said one of the men who had 


THE TEN CROSSES. 


Ill 


been confined in the “ Church.” He indicated with 
his finger. “ There is a mal-pas yonder ; he has 
escaped along that.” 

A mal-pas^ in fact, exists in many of these rock 
castles. It consists of a track sometimes natural, 
often artificially cut in the face of the cliff, so narrow 
that only a man with an unusually steady head can 
tread it ; often is the m,al-pas so formed that it can- 
not be walked along upright, but in a bent pos- 
ture. Often also it is cut through abruptly and pur- 
posely to be crossed by a board which he who has fled 
over it can kick down and so intercept pursuit. 

“ Bring up the men for me to judge them,” said 
Ogier, “and you, Mathieu, give me your sharp-point- 
ed pick.” 

The man addressed handed the implement to his 
Seigneur, who seated himself on the floor of rock 
with his legs apart and extended. 

“ Giraud ! ” said Ogier, “ and you, Roland, run out 
a beam through one of the windows — through yonder, 
and one of you find rope — abundance. How many 
are here ? ” 

“ There are twelve,” was the answer. 

“ That is well ; twelve — enough rope to hang 
twelve men, one after another from the window.” 

Sufficiency of rope was not to be found. 

“ It matters not,” said Ogier. “ There are other 
ways into another world than along a rope. They 


112 


NOEMI. 


shall walk the beam. Thrust it through the window 
and rope the end of it.” 

“ Which end ? ” 

“ This one in the room, to hold it down.” 

A large beam, fallen from the roof in the adjoin- 
ing chamber, and still smoking and glowing at one 
end, was dragged in, and the burning end thrust out 
through a window. The driving it through the open- 
ing, together with the inrush of air to the heated 
apartments, caused the red and charred wood to burst 
into light; it projected some ten feet beyond the 
wall, fizzing, spurting forth jets of blue flame over the 
abyss. 

“Number one!” shouted Ogier. “Make him 
walk the rafter. Drive him forward with your pikes 
if he shrinks back.” 

One of the ruffians of the band, his face as parch- 
ment, speechless in the stupefaction of his fear, was 
made to mount the beam, and then the peasants round 
shouted, drove at him with their knives and pruning- 
hooks, and made him pass through the window. 

There were three men seated on the end of the 
beam, which rested on a bench in the chamber. 

The moment the unhappy wretch had disappeared 
through the window, Ogier began to hew with his 
pick into the floor. 

“ Forward ! He is hanging back ! He clings to 
the wall ! Coward ! He is endeavouring to scramble 


THE TEN CROSSES. 


113 


in again ! ” was yelled by the peasants, crowding 
round the window to watch the man on the charred 
and glowing beam end. 

“ Drive him otf with a pike ! Make him dance on 
the embers ! ” called one within, and a reaping-hook, 
bound to a pole, was thrust forth. 

A scream, horrible in its agony, in its intensity ; 
and those seated on the beam felt there was no longer 
a counterpoise. 

Chip, chip, went Ogier. 

Presently he looked up. He had cut a Greek 
cross in the chalk floor. 

“ Number two ! ” he ordered. 

Then the wretch who was seized burst from his 
captors, rushed up to Ogier, threw himself on his 
knees, and implored to be spared. He would do any- 
thing. He would forswear the English. He would 
never plunder again. 

Old Del’ Peyra looked at him coldly. 

“Did you ever spare one who fell into your 
hands? Did you spare Rossignol? Make him walk 
the beam.” 

The shrieking wretch was lifted by strong arms on 
to the rafter ; he refused to stand, he threw himself 
on his knees, he struggled, bit, prayed, sobbed — all 
the manhood was gone out of him. 

“ Thrust him through the window,” said one. 
“ If he will not walk the beam he shall cling to it.” 


114 


NOEMI. 


The brigand’s efforts were in vain. He was driven 
through the opening. In his frantic efforts to save 
himself he gripped the rafter, hanging from it, his 
legs swinging in space. 

“ Cut off' his fingers,” said one. 

Then the man, to escape a blow from an axe, ran 
his hands along, put them on glowing red charcoal, 
and dropped. 

Chip, chip ! went Ogier. He had cut a second 
cross. 

“ Number three ! ” he said. 

The man whose turn came' thrust aside those who 
held him, leaped on the beam, and walked deliberately 
through the window and bounded into the darkness. 

Chip, chip ! went Ogier. He worked on till he 
had incised a third cross in the floor. 

Thus one by one was sent to his death out of the 
chamber reeking with wood-smoke, illumined by the 
puffs of flame from the still burning buildings that 
adjoined. Ten crosses had been cut in the floor. 

“ Number eleven ! ” said Ogier; and at that same 
moment his son J ean entered at the head of those who 
had ignited and sent down the cataract of fire that 
had consumed the nest. 

“ What are you doing, father?” 

“Sending them before their Judge,” answered 
Ogier. “ See these ten crosses. There are ten have 
been dismissed.” 


THE TEN CROSSES. 


115 


Then the man who had been brought forward to 
be sent along the same road as the rest said — 

“ I do not cry for life ; but this I say ; it was I, 
aye, I and my fellow here, Amanieu, who provided the 
hundred livres, without which the seven would not 
have been set free.” 

“ You provided it ? ” 

“Aye, under the Captain’s daughter. It was we 
who did it. If that goes to abate our sentence — well.” 

“ Father, spare these two,” pleaded Jean. 

“ As you will, Jean ; but there is space for two 
more crosses. Would — would I could cut an eleventh, 
and that a big one, for the Gros Guillem.” 

Then murmurs arose. The peasants, their love of 
revenge, their lust for slaughter whetted, clamoured 
for the death of the last two of the band. 

But Jean was firm. 

“ My father surrenders them to me,” he said. 

“ Then let them run on the mal-'pas^'‘ shouted one 
of the peasants. 

“ Good ! ” said the brigand Roger ; “ give me a 
plank and I will run on it, so will Amanieu.” 

Ogier looked ruefully at the crosses. 

“ ’Tis a pity,” said he. “ I intended to cut a dozen.” 

If the visitor to the Eglise de Guillen will look, to 
this day, rudely hacked in the floor, he will see the 
ten crosses : he will see further — hut we will leave the 
rest to the sequel. 


CHAPTER XIL 


THKEE CKOSSES. 

No sooner had Noemi left Veglise than with her 
teeth she tore the red cross off her left shoulder in an 
ebullition of wrathful resentment. 

She rode, attended by the two servants of the 
Tardes, to La Roque Gageac without speaking. 

Her mind was busy. It was clear to her that she 
could not remain with her aunt after that affair at the 
Devil’s Table. The Bishop of Sarlat was not an ener- 
getic ruler ; he might demur to making an expedition 
against Domme, doubt the expediency of attempting 
reprisals against so terrible a man as Le Gros Guillem, 
and all for the sake of a Jew, but he could hardly 
allow her, who had been the mover in the robbery, to 
remain in one of his towns. It would not be well for 
her to compromise the Tarde family. She must go to 
her mother at Domme. 

On arriving at La Roque, she told Jacques and 
Jean Tarde what she had done. 

Jacques burst out laughing. “Well done, Cousin- 
116 


THREE CROSSES. 


117 

Noemi ! I am glad our money has gone to some good 
purpose.” 

She flushed to her temples. Jean del’ Peyra had 
not welcomed her with commendation. He had re- 
ceived what she had done in an ungracious manner. 
She resented this. She was bitter at heart against 
him. That was the last time she would move a Anger 
to help a Del’ Peyra. 

Hoemi remained the night and part of next day 
at La Roque. Though young and strong, she was 
greatly tired by the exertion she had gone through, 
and by the mental excitement even more than the 
bodily exertion. The distance to Domme was not 
great. She had but to cross the Dordogne a couple 
of leagues higher in a ferry-boat and she would be at 
the foot of the rock of Domme. This rock may be 
described -as an oval snuffbox with precipitous sides, 
flat, or nearly so, above, with, however, one end some- 
what elevated above the other. On this superior eleva- 
tion stood the castle or citadel. On the lower was the 
town, uniformly built, with a quadrangular market- 
place in the midst surrounded by arcades, and every 
street cutting another at right angles, and every house 
an exact counterpart of its fellow. 

The garrison kept guard on the walls, but their 
headquarters were in the castle, where also resided their 
Captain, Guillem. Access to the town was to be had 
by one way only, and the gate was strongly defended 


118 




by salient drums of towers. The castle had a triple 
defence of river, wall and half towers, and possessed a 
great donjon, square and machicolated. In 1369 it 
had stood a siege by the English for fifteen days, and 
had repelled Sir John Ohandos and all his force. 
Since then it had fallen into the hands of the English 
through the neglect of the French crown to provide 
the necessary garrison. 

Noemi was attended as far as Domme by her cous- 
ins’ servant. On reaching the town it was at once 
manifest that something unusual had occurred which 
was occupying the minds and tongues of the towns- 
people. The men were gathered in knots ; the ar- 
caded market-place was full of them. 

The girl entered the castle and proceeded to her 
mother’s room. This lady was past the middle age, 
finely framed and delicately featured, still beautiful, 
but languid and desponding. She greeted her daugh- 
ter without impulsive affection. 

“ Noemi,” she said, “ something has happened to 
discompose your father. I do not know what it is, 
the whole place is in commotion.” 

“ I will go see,” answered the girl. 

“ I do not think he wishes to be disturbed,” said 
the lady, and sighing, leaned back in her seat. 

Noe mi at once proceeded to the chamber usually 
occupied by Guillem, and she saw him there, seated at 
a table, gnawing his nails. 


THREE CROSSES. 


119 


The insolent, dauntless freebooter was much al- 
tered. He sat with his elbows on the table, his fin- 
gers to his teeth, his hair ragged, his tall, smooth 
head, usually polished, without its wonted gloss, his 
eyes staring stonily before him. 

The Captain was mortified rather than hurt. He 
had been driven like a wolf athwart the woods by the 
peasants; smoked out of his lair by Jacques Bon- 
homnie, like a fox. 

He had escaped from the “ Church ” by the skin 
of his teeth. Roused by the crashing in of the roof, 
then by the flood of fire, he had sprung from his bed, 
half-clothed, without his jerkin and boots, had seized 
his sword and had fled. In an instant he had realised 
the impossibility of resistance, and had run along the 
mal-pas^ and, selfish in his fear, had kicked down the 
plank over the chasm to secure himself from pursuit, 
though at the sacrifice of his men. 

He had lurked at a distance, watching his blazing 
castle and then had run on. Occasionally he had all 
but rushed into the arms of peasants flocking from 
the neighbourhood. Once, in the grey morning light, 
he had been recognised and pursued, and had only 
saved himself by cowering under an overhanging 
stone till the men had gone by. 

Bootless, running over rocks and stones, and these 
latter in many cases flints that were broken and cut 
like razors, his feet had been gashed, and he had at 


120 




length been hardly able to limp along. Prickles of 
briar, spines of juniper, had aggravated the wounds, 
and it was with extreme difficulty that he had reached 
the Dordogne, seized a boat, and rowed himself across 
into territory nominally English. Even then he had 
not been safe. He knew it. He must reach Domme 
before the tidings of the disaster arrived, or all the 
subjugated country would be roused. He broke into 
a farmer’s stable, took his horse, and galloped with it 
up the valley, nor halted till he reached the gates of 
Domme, where his warder opened to him in amaze to 
see the governor of the town, the captain of the gar- 
rison, arrive in such a deplorable condition. 

Since his arrival, after he had bathed his feet and 
had them bound up, he had been seated at his table, 
gnawing his nails, glaring into space, his heart eaten 
out with rage, humiliation, and raven for revenge. 

To have been defied by a Del’ Peyra! To have 
been warned by his adversary and not to have profited 
by the warning ! Guillv^m’s bald forehead smoked, so 
hot were his thoughts within him. 

E’o^mi stood looking at the Captain, amazed at 
the change that had come over him — at his haggard- 
ness, at his stoniness of eye. 

“ Father, what has happened ? ” 

“ Go away ! I want no women here.” 

“ But, father, something has taken place. All 
Domme is in commotion. The streets are full.” 


THREE CROSSES. 


121 


“ Full ! ” in a scream ; “ talking of me — of my dis- 
grace ! Call my lieutenant ; I will send the pikemen 
through the streets to clear them — to silence the chat- 
tering rogues.” 

“ But what does this all mean, father? ” 

“ Come here, child.” He waved his arm without 
looking at her. She obeyed. She stepped to his side 
and stood by the table. 

“ Father, your fingers are bleeding ; you have 
gnawed them.” 

“ Have I ? It matters not. My feet are bleeding, 
my brain is bleeding, my honour is bled to death.” 

“ What has happened ? ” 

He took her hand. The only soft part in this 
terrible man was his love for Noemi, and that was 
rarely shown. 

“ What are the Del’ Peyras to you ? ” he asked 
roughly. 

“ Nothing, father.” 

He looked round, caught her steady eye, winced, 
and turned his away. 

“So — nothing. Why did you then ransom these 
men ? ” 

“Because, father, I had pity for the men them- 
selves.” 

“Why?” He could not understand this simple, 
natural, elementary feeling. She did not answer him, 
but loosened her hand from his; she took the torn 


122 


mtm. 


strips of red silk that had formed her cross and put 
them on the table before him. “ I renounce my com- 
panionship,” she said. 

He did not regard her words or her action. 

“ I am glad the Del’ Peyras are nothing to you. 

I swear ” He sprang up but sank again. He 

could not bear to stand on his mangled feet. “ I 
swear to you, I swear to all Perigord I will root them 
out; I will not leave a fibre of them anywhere. I 
will let all the world know what it is to oppose me.” 

“ What has been done, father? ” 

Again he turned his face, but could not endure 
her clear eyes. 

“ I cannot tell you. Ask others.” 

Steps were audible in the anteroom, and Roger 
and Amanieu entered. They saluted. ^ 

“ Captain,” said Roger, “ we only are come.” 

“ And the others ? ” 

“ Ten of them — made to leap the beam.” 

“ Yes, Captain, and the Seigneur del’ Peyra sent 
his compliments to you, and was sorry your legs were 
so long. You’ll excuse me. Captain, they were his 
own words ; he made me swear to repeat them. He 
was very sorry your legs were so • long. He cut ten 
crosses in the stone, one for each of the comrades, 
and, said he, there was room for another, and he’ll do 
you the honour of making its legs long also, if he has 
the chance of catching you.” 


THREE CROSSES. 123 

Guillem gnashed his teeth ; the blood rushed into 
his eyes. He glared at the messenger. 

“I think, Captain, you might have left us the 
plank,” said Amanieu. “ As it was, we had to borrow 
one from the peasants.” 

“ Send me the lieutenant. This can only be wiped 
out in blood ! ” roared the Gros Guillem, in spite of 
his wounded feet, leaping into an upright position. 
“ I care not that I am lamed — I care not — I shall be 
lifted into my saddle. I will not eat, I will not sleep 
till I have revenged myself and the murdered ten, 
and my burnt castle and this outrage on my honour.” 

“ I am here. Captain,” said the lieutenant, step- 
ping forward. He had entered along with the re- 
turned companions. In the blindness of his agony 
of jpiind and rage Guillem had not noticed him. 

The filibuster turned his face to the lieutenant. 
It was terrible. His red but grizzled hair, uncombed, 
shaggy with sweat, electrified and bristling with the 
fury that was in him, his pale eyes and red suffused 
balls, his great mouth with pointed fangs, the lower 
jaw quivering with excitement, made his appearance 
terrible. 

“ Lieutenant ! ” shouted Guillem ; “ call out all 
the men available— all but such as must remain to 
guard the castle and this cursed disloyal town, in 
which every citizen is a traitor. Muster them out- 
side the castle; bring forth as many horses as we 
9 


124 


NOfiMI. 


have. If I am carried, I will go. At once, before 
these peasants have recovered their astonishment, be- 
cause they surprised us when we were asleep : .at 
once, as swiftly as possible, to chastise them. Cut 
down every peasant in arms : give no quarter, but 
above all, take me Ogier del’ Peyra. I will pay fifty 
livres for him — to any man — to have him taken alive. 
I do not desire him dead; I must have him alive. 
Do you mark me ? First of all, Del’ Peyra. At once, 
before they expect reprisals — at once.” 

His hand was on the table. In his fury he shook 
it as if it had been his enemy he was grappling. 

“ To horse, Eoger and Amanieu, and revenge your 
wrongs, as I will revenge mine.” 

“Pardon me. Captain,” said Eoger. “What is 
this I see ? the red silk cross — what ? has she taken 
this off and renounced companionship ? So do I. I 
cannot serve against the father Del’ Peyra or the son 
who spared my life.” He plucked at the cross on his 
shoulder, then with his dagger unripped it, tore it, 
and threw it on the table. 

“Nor I,” said Amanieu surlily, “not because they 
spared me, but because you kicked down the plank.” 
And he also tore off his cross and fiung it on the 
table. 


CHx^PTER XIIL 


THE EI^-D OF L’EGLISE GUILLEM. 

The exultation of the peasants at having taken 
“ the Church of Guillem ” would have resulted in a 
sack and insubordination but for two causes; one, 
that the spoil of the robbers had not been recovered ; 
and the other, the great firmness of Jean del’ Peyra 
and his father. 

The pillaged goods must be found. None had 
much hesitation in saying where they were. Every- 
thing worth preserving had been stowed away in the 
rock-hewn chamber above the castle, in the face of 
the cliff, and this was now very difficult of access. 

The roof of the castle from which it was reached 
was broken in, portions had been consumed, other 
portions were so charred as to be dangerous. 

The peasants had begun to throw down the walls, 
to demolish every portion of the structure that was 
artificial, but Jean stayed them. 

“ If you do this,” said he, “ how shall we reach 
the treasury above ? ” 


125 


126 


NO^:MI. 


The day had broken but the sun had not yet risen. 
The slope below the Church and the Church itself 
presented a strange spectacle. 

The incline was strewn with smouldering frag- 
ments of wood, of faggots, the bind of which had 
been burst by the flames, and had released sticks that 
had not been ignited, of rafters from the castle black- 
ened by the fire, of long streams of pitch that had 
fallen and run and had ceased to flame. In the midst 
of the road by the river-brim stood a cask on its 
bottom, emitting volumes of black smoke. Amid 
the wreckage lay the corpses of the men who had 
been made to leap to their death. When daylight 
came, it was perceived that one alone had not died 
instantly. He had been seen to stir an arm and 
raise his head, and a peasant had run down and dis- 
patched him. 

The face of the cliff, wherever reached by the 
flames, had become decomposed. Chalk will not en- 
dure the touch of fire, and the white, scaly surface 
had flaked off and exposed yellow patches like sand- 
stone. Scales, moreover, were continually falling 
from the blistered scar. 

' A portion of the floor of the main chamber of the 
castle that projected beyond the face of the cliff re- 
mained unconsumed, and sustained the beams of the 
wall that formed the screen in front. Many of the 
stones that had been inserted between the rafters had 


THE END OF L’EGLISE GUILLEM. 127 

fallen out; nevertheless, sufficient remained to make 
it possible for an agile man to reach the charred and 
ruinous roof. 

“ Let some go to the cliff-edge overhead,” said 
Jean, “ and tie the end of a rope to a tree, and let it 
down in front of the chamber in the rock. Then I 
can, I believe, climb to it, and see ! I will thrust this 
piece of torn red silk through the roof at the end of 
a pike, as a token where to lower the cord.” 

An hour elapsed before the rope end with a heavy 
stone attached to it came down through the shattered 
roof. This was now left hanging, and Jean del’ Peyra 
began to climb. He bade the men undo the stone as 
soon as he was aloft, and in its place attach a large 
basket to the cord, which he would draw up and fill 
with whatever he found in the chamber. Knowing, 
however, how little the peasants could be trusted, 
he required his father to keep guard, and take pos- 
session of what he lowered, the whole to be retained 
undisturbed till each could claim his own goods, 
and of those unclaimed a distribution would be 
made later among such as had assisted in taking the 
stronghold. 

Nimbly as a cat Jean ascended among the beams. 
He had to use extreme caution, as some of them were 
smoking, and he had to beware of putting his hand 
on fire that was unobservable by daylight, and of rest- 
ing his foot on cross pieces that had been reduced to 


128 


NOfeMI. 


charcoal. The stones shaken by him as he mounted, 
and loosely compacted among half-burnt beams, and 
themselves split and powdered with heat, came down 
in volleys ; but as this portion of the castle overhung 
the precipice from seven to ten feet, they did not 
jeopardise those who were in the cavernous part of 
the chamber. 

Jean rapidly swung himself to the rafters of the 
roof, and, after testing which would bear his weight, 
crept along one till he touched the cord. Then, by 
this aid, he was able to creep up the face of the rock, 
that, however, came down on him in dust where crum- 
bled by the heat ; and in a couple of minutes he was 
in the cave. 

A rapid glance round assured him that it was un- 
tenanted, and that it contained all the booty that 
had been accumulated by the routiers in many ex- 
cursions. 

In lockers cut in the native rock, and furnished 
with wooden shelves, were gold chalices and reli- 
quaries of Limoges enamel, silver-tipped drinking- 
horns, and a richly bound volume of poetry, the in- 
terminable metrical romance of Guerin de Montglane. 
In chests were silks and velvets ; in boxes the jewel- 
lery of ladies. Besides these costly articles were many 
of inferior value, garments, boots, gloves, caps, of every 
sort and quality. Of money there was not much, save 
one bag that contained a hundred livres — it was the 


THE END OF L’EGLISE GUILLEM. 


129 


ransom of the seven men, the plunder of the Jew 
Levi. 

As soon as Jean had passed everything down to 
the men below by means of his basket, that travelled 
frequently up and down, he took hold of the rope and 
easily swung himself to the rafters, and let himself 
down into the chamber of the castle. Here his father 
had disposed of the booty in parcels, and had arranged 
that all was to be carried down the hill and deposited 
in the Church of Ste. Soure, where division would 
be made in three days’ time. Then every claimant 
should be satisfied. Those sacred vessels which had 
come from churches would be restored to the churches, 
and notice would be issued to all sufferers in the coun- 
try round to come and retake whatsoever they could 
show was legitimately their own. 

“ And now, father,” said Jean, “ it seems to me 
that we are but at the beginning of our troubles. We 
have taken this outpost and destroyed a handful of 
our oppressors. But behind this stands Homme, and 
in it is a garrison. The Captain has slipped through 
our fingers. He will never consent to abide without 
an attempt to recover what is lost and to revenge his 
humiliation. It is my advice that we utterly destroy 
this castle, so that it can never be occupied again. 
Then, that we should send out spies to observe the 
movements of the enemy, and report if he be on his 
way to make reprisals. Lastly, that we hold ourselves 


130 


NO]EMI. 


in readiness to encounter him when he sets forth. 
Let us choose our own ground, and that is half-way 
to success.” 

“You are right, Jean,” said the old man. “We 
will take council at noon and prepare. Now, lads! 
down with the walls, rip up the floors, down with 
everything! Remember this — a first advantage is a 
sure prelude to a final disaster unless followed up. 
Do you know why we have taken and destroyed this 
‘Church’? Because the ruffians had surprised us 
and made easy spoil at Ste. Soure. They sat down 
here to eat and drink and lay down to sleep in full 
confidence that we were overawed. Now we have 
surprised them. Take care lest what chanced to 
them chance also to us. At noon meet in the Ste. 
Soure church. Now to work. Down with the rest 
of the twigs of this vultures’ nest ! ” 

With a cheer the men set to work to demolish the 
castle that had so long menaced the country. There 
were many willing hands employed, and the work was 
already half done; it needed little more than some 
shaking to throw the entire structure to pieces. Only 
here and there was there solid wall ; that here and 
there was where there was solid shelf on which to 
build. Elsewhere all was wooden framework filled 
with stones. 

Thus was L’Eglise Guillem destroyed. At the 
same time some great thing was won. The people, 


THE END OF L’EGLISE GUILLEM. 


131 


spasmodically, had exerted its power, and had ac- 
quired consciousness of its strength ; it held up for a 
moment the head that had been for so many centuries 
bowed under the feet of its tyrants. It had looked 
military power in the face, and had not winced. 


CHAPTER XIY. 


THE BATTLE OF THE BEUHE. 

Le Geos Guillem, at the head of fifty men, was 
on his way to chastise the peasants of the Vezere 
Valley. 

The number he had with him was not large, but 
he was unable to spare more for this expedition. A 
sufficient garrison must be left in Domme. Besides, 
to deal with peasants, a handful of soldiers with steel 
caps and swords was certain to suffice ; hitherto it had 
sufficed, and that at all times. What was Del’ Peyra? 
He had never distinguished himself in feats of arms ; 
no one had ever heard that he had taken them up at 
any time. The dung-fork and the ox-goad befitted 
him. It was said he had more than once ploughed 
his own land. 

The men were mounted so as to make the che- 
vaucMe as rapidly and effectively as possible, without 
allowing those whom they were resolved to attack 
time to bestir themselves and assemble to offer resist- 
ance. If these Ste. Soure peasants did learn that the 
132 


THE BATTLE OF THE BEUNE. 


133 


ribands were coming they would flee to the rocks and 
hide themselves there. That they should attempt re- 
sistance was not to be anticipated. Guillem had de- 
termined to burn every house in the village, to devas- 
tate the fields, cut down all the fruit-trees, and try 
whether fire and an escalade would enable him to cap- 
ture Le Peuch, the stronghold of the Del’ Peyras, so 
that he might be able to punish the chief offender, 
the Seigneur Ogier, as well as all his retainers and 
vassals. 

The Captain alone was silent and immersed in 
gloomy thoughts. The rest of the Company were 
merry and indulged in banter. They were bound on 
an expedition of all others best to their liking. 

As they descended the valley of the Little Beune 
they passed under the rock of Cazelles, and looked up 
with a laugh at the peasants who were peering out of 
the holes of the cliff, much like jackdaws. Not a 
bullock, not a sheep was left in the valley. The 
houses were deserted, and probably everything that 
could be carried away had been transmitted to the 
cave refuges. 

“ Look ! ” mocked one of the riders. “ The fel- 
lows had such a scare the other day at Ste. Soure that 
these villains at Cazelles have not yet recovered con- 
fidence.” 

Where the Little Beune unites with the Great 
Beune the blended calcareous waters ooze through bog 


134 


mtmi. 


in a dreamlike, purposeless manner round a shoulder 
of rock that is precipitous, hut which has a sufficiency 
of solid ground at its feet to allow of a practicable 
way being carried over this deposit. 

The Beune and the Vez^re are like two different 
types of character. The latter never deviates from 
the direction it has resolved on taking except when 
opposed by obstacles impossible to overleap, and these 
it circumvents. It saws down every barrier it can; 
it never halts for a moment ; if it turns back in the 
direction it has been pursuing it is solely that it may 
seek out a channel more direct and less tortuous. It 
is so with men and women who have a clear concep- 
tion of an object at which they are aiming, some pur- 
pose in their lives. 

With the Beune it is otherwise. It has no per- 
ceptible current ; it does not run ; it has no flow ; it 
slips down. It finds itself in a channel and. drifts 
along from one stagnation to another; it has had 
nothing whatever to do with the formation of its 
channel. It does not even lie in a bed of its own 
making. It is a bog and not a river — here and there 
spreading into pools that wait for an impulse to be 
given them by the wind, by the whisk of a heron’s 
Aving, to form the ripple that will carry some of its 
water over the calcareous bar it has itself raised by 
its own inertness. No one could say, looking at the 
Beune, in which direction it was tending, and it does 


THE BATTLE OF THE BEUNE. 


135 


not seem to have any idea itself. Its sluggishness 
accumulates obstacles; marsh grass is given time to 
throw out its fibrous roots, and reeds to build up 
hurdles across the stream, and the cretaceous par- 
ticles settle at leisure into walls obstructing it; con- 
sequently diverting it. It lurches stupidly from side 
to side and then listlessly gives up every effort of ad- 
vance. We stoop to drink of the Vdzere. We turn 
in disgust from the Beune. 

On each side of the Vezdre as it swings along is 
alluvial soil — beds of the utmost richness that laugh 
with verdure, where the hay harvest is gathered thrice 
in the year. In the equally broad valley of the Beune 
is no pasture at all, nothing good, nothing but profit- 
less morass. Where the waters touch good soil they 
corrupt it. The crystal waters of the Vezere nourish 
every herb they reach ; the turbid ooze of the Beune 
kills, petrifies all life that approaches it. 

Is not this also a picture of certain characters? 
Characters ! — save the mark ! Characterless individu- 
als that we have seen, perhaps have to do with, whom 
we avoid when possible.* 

Hardly had the band of routiers turned into the 
main valley, and the foremost men had reached the 


* Within the last five years a determined effort has been 
made to reclaim the valley of the Beune. To do this, a 
channel has been cut for the river, that has to be incessantly 
cleared. 


136 


NOfiMI. 


cliff, before a horn was blown, and at once a shower 
of stones was hurled from above the horsemen. 

At the same moment they saw that the road be- 
fore them was barricaded. Trees had been felled and 
thrown across the track, and from behind this barri- 
cade scowled black faces and flashed weapons. 

Some of the horses reared, struck by the stones ; 
some of the riders were thrown to the ground. The 
horses, frightened, bounded from the road. They 
could not turn, being pressed on by those behind; 
they rushed away from the shower of stones into the 
level track of valley-bed on their right, and at once 
foundered in the morass. There they plunged, en- 
deavoured to extricate themselves, and sank deeper. 
The semi-petrifled flbres through which their hoofs 
sank, held to their legs, and prevented the beasts from 
withdrawing them. After a few frantic and fruitless 
efforts they sank to their bellies and remained motion- 
less, with that singular stolidity that comes over a 
beast when it resigns itself to circumstances which it 
recognises it has not the power to overcome. 

The men who had been carried into the marsh 
threw themselves off. The routiers were wiser than 
were the knights at Agincourt. They did not over- 
burden themselves with defensive armour which would 
weigh them down and render them incapable of move- 
ment. Most of their clothing was of leather, with but 
a little steel over their breasts and shoulders. With 


THE BATTLE OF THE BEUNE. 


137 


agility they threw themselves from their sinking 
horses, and waded to the hard ground. At times 
they floundered deep, but were able to throw them- 
selves forward and where the surface was most pre- 
carious, advanced like lizards, till they reached ground 
where the rushes showed that it was sufliciently com- 
pact to sustain them upright. 

Meanwhile, those in the rear who had halted when 
the first ranks were broken and dispersed hesitated 
what to do. To push forward was to incur the same 
fate, and their pride would not suffer them to retreat. 

The Captain was behind. He was suffering great- 
ly. His wounded feet had begun to inflame; they 
were swollen and tortured by the compression of his 
boots. He could not bear to rest his soles on the 
stirrup-irons. To rise in his stirrups and hew with 
his great sword, as he had purposed, was impossible. 
The pain he endured fevered his blood, churned his 
anger to frenzy, which this unexpected check did not 
serve to moderate. 

He had his wits about him, however, and he saw 
that those who held the rock must be dislodged or no 
advance could be made. 

Accordingly, he ordered a party of his men to dis- 
mount, peg their horses, and ascend to where the 
peasants were threatening them with their piles of 
stones. 

This could be done — at all events attempted — 


138 


no^:mi. 


from the lateral valley, where the slope was moderate 
and densely overgrown with coppice. 

Bitterly now did the leader regret that for a sec- 
ond time he had underrated the spirit and the sagac- 
ity of his opponents. He ought to have marched at 
the head of a larger contingent or have postponed his 
attempt till a more suitable opportunity presented 
itself. 

With his usual effrontery, Guillem had ridden 
across country by the shortest way, through the lands 
of the Bishop of Sarlat, instead of descending the 
Dordogne to the junction of the Vezere, and then 
ascending the latter river to Ste. Soure. 

He had not done this for two reasons — one was 
that the formidable Castle of Beynac, in French 
hands, blocked the passage down the Dordogne ; the 
other was that he had measured and properly appre- 
ciated the incapacity of the prelate : he knew the 
Bishop had not the men at his disposal to send to 
contest his passage. 

At this time his real danger lay, as he very well 
knew, in tidings of his ride reaching the Castle of 
Commarques, hardly an hour’s distance up the valley 
of the Great Beune. This was a dependence of Bey- 
nac, and was held for the French king.* What gar- 

* This splendid ruin — one of the finest in Perigord — has 
been recently purchased by the Prince de Croye, who is en- 
gaged in cutting and constructing roads to it, with the purpose 


THE BATTLE OP THE BEUNE. 


139 


rison was there he knew not, but it was certain to be 
small. Nevertheless, even a small band of troopers or 
experienced men-at-arms assailing him in rear while 
engaged in bursting through this barrier of peasants 
before him might be more than dangerous, it might 
prove disastrous. 

Resolved at all hazards to dislodge those on the 
height, he sent his lieutenant up the steep hillside at 
the head of his trustiest men, or, rather, as many of 
these as he could spare without breaking the ranks 
directly opposed to those who watched ^nd menaced 
from behind the barricade. 

But the task of storming the height was one that 
was difficult. Not only was the party sent up it in- 
adequate in numbers, not only were the assailants in- 
convenienced by the steepness of the ascent, but their 
weapons were not calculated to be effective in a tangle 
of chestnut, rowan, and sloe laced about with ropes of 
bramble and clematis. They carried swords ; they 
were unprovided with pikes ; whereas those who held 
the height were armed with' knives fastened to long 
poles, which they could thrust with excellent effect 
at the men who were attacking. Time was expended 
in the scramble ; and the assailants were exhausted 
before they came within sight of the eyes of those 
they were sent to dislodge. In the brushwood the 

of restoring the castle as a residence. A charming residence it 
is likely to prove to such as are mosquito-proof. 

10 


140 


NO^:MI. 


routiers could not keep together; the many sprays 
shooting up from stumps of felled chestnut separated 
them. They had to hack their way through the tough 
chains of clematis, and they were lacerated by the 
thorns of the sloe-bushes and the teeth of the wild 
rose and blackberry-briar. They could not come to a 
hand-to-hand fight. Their enemies calmly waited, 
watching them in their struggle, and drove at them 
with their blades through the bushes, forcing them 
to spring back to avoid death. 

It took some time for the lieutenant in command 
to realise that he had been dispatched on a task which 
he was incompetent to achieve. But when he had 
determined this, he bade his men desist and retreat to 
the valley below. 

They had not retreated far on their way down 
before they saw that the aspect of affairs below was 
greatly changed since they had started on their 
scramble. 

Behind the barricade had been ranged the char- 
coal-burners with their forks, under the command of 
Ogier del’ Peyra. 

These had remained covered by their breastwork, 
expecting the enemy to make a second attempt to ad- 
vance along the road. When, however, this was not 
done, and they saw them drawn up motionless, and 
shortly after heard the shouts and cries from the 
height, then Ogier recognised that the line of men 


THE BATTLE OF THE BEUNE. 141 

before him was covering an attack on his son, who 
held the rock. 

He at once gave the signal to advance at a rush. 
With a shout of joy the charcoal-burners burst over 
the barricade and charged along the road, led by the 
Seigneur, and fell upon the double line of troopers. 

A furious hand-to-hand m^lee ensued. The horses 
were alarmed by the sable figures with black faces and 
hands who sprang at them, and recoiled, not only 
from the sight, but also at their smell, producing dis- 
order. The struggle that ensued was hand to hand. 
Ho quarter was asked and none was given. The 
routiers were borne back, several had fallen, but also 
many colliers rolled on the ground. 

At this juncture, down from the hill, out from 
among the coppice leaped the contingent that had 
failed to capture the height. It arrived at the most 
critical moment, just as the horsemen were struggling 
to disengage themselves and fly. They came upon 
the colliers in rear, they stopped accessions to their 
ranks from behind. Now their blades served them 
well, and the rout that had begun was arrested. 

The arrival of this body of men startled the peas- 
ants. They did not understand whence they had 
sprung ; and they retreated. 

“ Turn ! Back to Domme ! ” yelled the Captain. 

The men recovered their horses, remounted, and 
still fighting, began the retreat. 


142 


NO^IMI. 


As they came under Gazelles a shower of projec- 
tiles was launched upon them from above. 

The peasants gave over the pursuit. They were 
incapable of keeping pace with the horses. 

And now, as they fell back, down from the height 
came Jean del’ Peyra with his men. 

“Where is my father?” he asked eagerly, and 
looked round. 

Old Ogier was nowhere to be seen. 

“ Search among the fallen !” ordered Jean in great 
alarm. 

Every dead and dying man was examined. 

Then came back a charcoal-burner, hot, for he had 
been running, and the sweat streaming over his face 
had washed it into streaks, like those that stain the 
face of the chalk cliffs. 

“ What — the Seigneur ? ” asked the man. “ He is 
taken.” 

“ Taken ! ” 

“ Aye, taken and carried away by the rouffiens.^^ 


CHAPTER XV. 


A THREATENED HORROR. 

When G-ros Guillem returned to the Castle of 
Domme, his feet were so swollen that the boots had 
to be cut off, and his feet swathed in linen. 

By his orders, Ogier del’ Peyra was thrown into 
a dungeon for the night. The old Seigneur had been 
surrounded, disarmed, and captured by some of the 
routiers while recovering their horses, which Ogier 
was endeavouring to prevent by cutting their reins. 

As soon as he was taken he knew that his doom 
was sealed, and he bore the knowledge with his usual 
stolidity, amounting to indifference. A quiet, plod- 
ding, heavy man he had ever been, only notable for 
his rectitude in the midst of a tortuous generation ; 
he had been roused to energy and almost savagery by 
circumstances, and, thus roused, had manifested a 
power and prevision which no one had expected to 
find in him. Now that all was done that he could do, 
he slid back into his ordinary quietude. He slept 
soundly in his prison, for he had greatly excited and 

tired himself during the day. 

143 


144 


NO^IML 


“ Man can die but once,” he said ; and the saying 
was characteristic of the man — it was commonplace. 
This was, perhaps, less the case when he added, “ An 
honest conscience can look Death in the face without 
blushing.” 

Consequently, when thrust into his dungeon, he 
took the blanket ungraciously afforded him, and 
wrapped it round him, ate his portion of bread, drank 
a draught of water, signed himself — said the peasant’s 
prayer, common in Quercy and Perigord as in Eng- 
land — 

A1 let you me coutsi 
Cinq antsels y trobi : 

Doux al capt, tres as pes, 

Et la mayre de Diou al met.* 

Then he threw up his feet on the board that was 
given him for bed, and in five minutes slept and 
snored. 

It was otherwise with Le Gros Guillem. lie 
would tolerate no one near him but his wife and 
daughter, and they came in for explosions of wrath. 
The fever caused by pain had inflamed his head : he 
talked, swore, raged against everyone and all things, 
and boasted of the example he would make on the 
morrow of the man who was in his power. Noemi 
knew that some expedition had been undertaken, and 

* Equivalent to our “ Four corners to my bed ; two angels at 
my head ; two to bottom ; two to pray ; two to bear my soul 
away.” 


A TPIREATENED HORROR. 


145 


that it had failed, but she knew no particulars, cer- 
tainly had no idea that it had resulted in the capture 
of Jean del’ Peyra’s father. 

She bathed and bound up her father’s feet, and 
applied cold water as often as they began to burn. 
This gradually eased him, especially as he lay . with 
his feet raised. The wounds he had received were of 
no great depth, but they were painful, because the 
soles of the feet are especially sensitive; and as all 
the grit and thorns had been removed by the surgeon 
before he left Domme, there was no fear but that 
with rest he would be well again in a week or ten 
days ; well enough at least to walk a little. 

The wife of Gros Guillem was a dreamy, despond- 
ing woman, who paid no attention to what he said, 
interested herself in no way in his affairs ; neither 
stirring him to deeds of violence nor interfering to 
mitigate the ^miseries wrought by him. She accepted 
her position placidly. She was fond of Guillem in 
her fashion without being demonstrative, and it was 
a marvel to everyone how it was that he was so at- 
tached to her, and that she had maintained her hold 
on him through so many years. 

It was reported, and the report was true, that 
the lady had been carried off by Guillem from the 
Castle of Fenelon. Guillem had retained her, in defi- 
ance of the excommunication launched at him by the 
Bishop of Cahors, and in defiance of the more trench- 


146 


no^:mi. 


ant and material weapons wielded against him by 
the Fenelon family, which was powerful in Quercy, 
and had a fortress on the Dordogne above Domme, 
and a house and rock castle above La Koque Gageac, 
side by side with that belonging to the Bishop of 
Sarlat. In an affray with Guillem’s company the 
husband had been killed; the widow accepted this 
fact as she had accepted the fact that she had been 
carried off by violence. She sighed, lamented, pitied 
herself as a veritable martyr, and acquiesced in being 
the wife of the man who, though he had not killed 
her husband with his own hand, had caused his 
death. 

With morning Guillem was easier and his head 
cooler, but there was no alteration in his resolve with 
regard to Del’ Peyra. He would deal with him in 
such a signal manner as would from henceforth deter 
any man from lifting a finger against himself. 

In his fever he had racked his brain to consider 
in what manner he would treat him. 

He sent for his lieutenant and ordered that he 
should himself be carried into the keep. 

“ And,” said he, “ bring up the prisoner — and call 
up the men, into the lower dungeon.” 

Noemi was walking on the terrace of the castle 
that same morning; she had been up late, had at- 
tended to the fevered man, her father, and now was 
sauntering in the cool under the shade of the lime- 


A THREATENED HORROR. 


147 


trees, clipped en herceau^ that occupied the walk on 
the walls — a walk that commanded the glorious valley 
of the Dordogne, that wondrous river which flows 
through some of the most beautiful and wild scenery 
in Europe, and is also the most neglected by the trav- 
eller in quest of beauty and novelty. 

At this time she knew something of the events of 
the previous day. She knew also of the taking and 
the destruction of I’Eglise Guillem. Twice had the 
Del’ Peyras measured their strength against the re- 
doubted Captain, and twice had they forced him to 
fly. At the head of raw peasants without rudimen- 
tary discipline they had defied and beaten the troopers 
of a hundred skirmishes. She was not surprised. 
She had seen Rossignol. Great wrongs wake corre- 
sponding forces that must expend themselves on the 
wrong-doers. It is but a matter of time before the 
thunder-cloud bursts. Every crime committed sends 
up its steam to swell the vaporous masses and carries 
with it the lightning. 

Nursed though Noemi had been in an atmosphere 
of violence, hearing of it as matter for exultation, 
the ruin of households and homesteads spoken of as a 
matter of course, she had never been brought face to 
face with the wreckage till she was shown it at Ste. 
Soure. 

And did she feel anger against the Del’ Peyras for 
having taken up arms to revenge their wrongs? 


148 


NO^IMI. 


Nothing was more natural: nothing more just where 
the Crown and law were powerless, than that men 
should right themselves. She would have despised 
the Del’ Peyras had they sat down under their wrong 
without any attempt to repay it. 

Noemi’s nature was a good one, but it was undis- 
ciplined. Her mother had allowed her to go her own 
way. Her father treated her with indulgence, and 
that precisely where she should have been checked. 

In a lawless society she had learned to fear neither 
God nor the king. Both were too far off. The one 
in Heaven, the other in England ; too distant to 
rule effectively. A certain perfunctory homage was 
claimed by both, neither was regarded as exercising 
any control over men. A feudal service was all that a 
bandit in those days, or indeed any baron or seigneur, 
thought of rendering to the Almighty. He would 
fight in a crusade for Him, he would do knightly 
homage in church, but he would no more obey the 
laws of the Christian religion than he would those of 
the realm of France. 

Noemi had seen but little of Jean del’ Peyra, and 
yet that little had surprised her, and had awoke in her 
thoughts that were to her strange, and yet, though 
strange, consonant with her instinctive sense of what 
was right and wrong. 

Jean del’ Peyra not only surprised her, but occu- 
pied her thoughts : she saw, almost for the first time, 


A THKEATENED HORROR. 


149 


in him one of a different order from the men with 
whom she had been thrown. Even her cousins, the 
Tardes, were akin in mind and consciencelessness to 
the routiers. What they did that was right was done 
rather out of blind obedience to instinct, or allegiance 
to their feudal lord, the Bishop of Sarlat. They were 
noble, for they had escutcheons over their doors, but 
all their nobility was external. They were boastful, 
empty roysterers. 

On the other hand, the Del’ Peyras were quiet, 
made no pretence to being more than they were, and 
were inspired with a moral sense and a regard for 
their fellow-men. 

She saw how far greater was the influence exerted 
by the old man and his son than was exercised by that 
remorseless man of war, Guillem, or the braggart 
Jacques Tarde. Her father controlled men by fear ; 
Ogier del’ Peyra moved men by respect. The Captain 
was a destructive, and only a destructive element. 
Solely by means of men like the Del’ Peyras could 
human happiness and well-being be built up. 

Noe mi was a thoughtful girl. 

At first, somewhat contemptuously, she had set 
down Jean del’ Peyra as a milksop ; from what she 
had heard, his father was but a country clown. But 
the country clown and the milksop had revealed 
in themselves a force; an energy quite unexpected. 
No^mi laughed as her busy mind worked. She 


150 


mtMi. 


laughed to think of the discomfiture of professional 
fighting men, accustomed to arms from their youth, 
by a parcel of inexperienced peasants and charcoal- 
burners. 

She was glad that these oppressed beings had 
risen. It showed that there was in them a nature 
above that of rabbits. She had seen a thousand times 
the holes into which they ran at the glint of a spear- 
head, at the jangle of a spur. But now they had 
issued from their holes and had hunted like wolves. 

But these poor, ignorant timid peasants would 
never have done this had they not been led. It was 
the moral character, the true nobility of the Del’ 
Peyras that had rallied the people around them, 
given them courage, and directed their blind impulse 
of revenge into proper forms of retaliation. 

Was the execution of those ten men of her 
father’s band to be accounted a wanton act of 
cruelty ? 

Noemi could not admit this. Some such rude 
administration of justice was rendered necessary by 
the times. The men who had suffered had merited 
their death by a hundred deeds of barbarity. 

It was as though a spell had fallen on the girl. 
She was exultant, her heart was bounding with pride, 
and that because her father and his ruffians had been 
put to rout by their adversaries. 

The girl was unable to explain to herself the 


A THREATENED HORROR. 


151 


reason of this, but, indeed, she did not admit to 
herself that it was as has been described. Yet 
she was sensible that some spell was on her. She 
had proposed to cast one on Jean. That kiss 
she had given him had been intended to work the 
charm. But, alack ! there are dangerous spells which 
a witch may weave that affect herself as much as her 
victim, and of such was even this. 

As Noemi paced the terrace, her mind in a fer- 
ment, she was accosted by Roger, the good-natured, 
somewhat impudent fellow who had attended her on 
her expedition to the Devil’s Table. 

He had torn off his red cross, but he had not left 
Domme, nor, indeed, the castle. He would no 
longer share in an expedition against Ste. Soure, but 
he was not unwilling to do any other service for the 
Captain. 

He could now exult over his comrades who had 
returned from such an expedition with diminished 
numbers, defeated. 

He approached the girl and accosted her. 

Noemi answered curtly that she did not desire 
to speak to him. She disliked the forwardness of the 
man. 

“ But,” said he, “ I would save his life — he saved 
mine.” 

“ Save whom ? ” 

“ The Seigneur del’ Peyra.” 


152 


NO^lMI. 


“ What of him ? ” 

“ He was taken yesterday.” 

“ The Seigneur — taken ! ” 

“ And the Captain is now with him — in the dun- 
geon under the keep.” 

“Doing what?” asked Ho6mi in breathless alarm. 
“ There is none in the world can save him but 
yourself ; the Captain would listen to no one else.” 

“ Save him — from what ? ” 

“ The oubliette^ 


CHAPTEE XVL 


VADE ri^ PACE. 

The thought of undefined horror conveyed by 
that word ouUiette'*^ for a moment held Noemi 
as though it had paralysed her. But this was for a 
moment only, and then she bounded in the direction 
of the keep. 

A word must be said as to what an ouUiette was. 
In almost every mediaeval castle in France and Ger- 
many the visitor is shown holes, usually in the floor, 
that descend to a considerable depth, and which are said 
to be oubliettes — that is to say, places down which 
prisoners were dropped when it was to the interest of 
the lord of the castle to sink them in oblivion. 

Sometimes these places communicate with a river 
or a lake, as at Chillon, and this passage is set with 
irons, presumably to cut in pieces the body of the 
man cast down it. 

In the vast majority of cases these so-called oub- 
liettes are nothing but openings connected with the 

drainage of the castle or else are the well-mouths of 
153 


154 


NO^:MI. 


cisterns in which the rain-water from the roofs was 
collected and stored. 

Nevertheless, the fact that skeletons have been 
found in some of the closed subterranean vaults, and 
that a percentage of them cannot be explained as 
having been anything else but receptacles for prison- 
ers thrown in, to die a languishing death, and lastly, 
the historic certainty that some poor wretches have so 
perished, shows that popular belief is not wholly un- 
founded. The writer has himself been let down by 
ropes into one in which four skeletons were entombed, 
and it is w’ell known that in 1403 one of the Counts 
of Armagnac so disposed of his cousin, who lingered 
on thus immured for eight days. The son would 
have shared his father’s fate but that out of horror 
at the notion of being flung down the well on the 
corpse of his father, the poor lad dropped dead on the 
brink. 

Moreover, under the title of vade in pace^ the 
oubliette was used, not in castles only, but in convents 
as well, and was there introduced by Matthew, Prior 
of St. Martin des Pres, in Languedoc, in the middle 
of the fourteenth century, when the Archbishop of 
Toulouse interfered to forbid the employment of this 
inhuman mode of execution. A prelate might step 
in to check the barbarity of a prior, but who was 
there to hold the hand of a noble ? 

Noemi saw a cluster of men outside the door that 


VADE IN pace: 


155 


led into the dungeon, and forced her way through 
them. The dungeon was not large, it would not 
admit more than a dozen men. It opened on to a 
platform of rock on the outside of the castle, not into 
the inner court. Access to it was obtained by a door- 
way in the basement of the keep, where the wall was 
ten feet thick. The chamber was vaulted, and only 
near the middle sufficiently lofty to admit of anyone 
standing upright in it. There was no window by 
which light and air could penetrate. When the door 
was shut, both were excluded. The walls, the floor, 
the vault were of square-cut limestone. 

At the further end, immediately opposite the door 
was a recess, conchoidal, and in this recess what 
seemed to be a well. There was a stone step in the 
floor, and above that a circular coped wall, precisely 
such as may be seen where there is a well ; with this 
difference, that the orifice was not two feet in diam- 
eter, a very inconvenient size for a bucket to pass up 
or down. 

In the dungeon sat Le Gros Guillem on a pallet, 
with his feet raised and bandaged. Before him, 
bound, with his hands behind his back, was Ogier 
del’ Peyra, between two jailers. The old man had 
concluded that his head would be struck off, at the 
worst that he would be hanged. The sight of the 
vade in pace^ and the knowledge that he was to 
be cast down alive and left to a lingering agony, 
11 


156 




had blanched his cheek, but did not make him 
tremble. 

Ogier did not know, he could not guess, the depth 
of the ouUiette. But he was aware that such were 
sometimes not so profound but that he who was flung 
in broke some of his bones, and thus died of a com- 
bination of miseries. Happy he who, falling on his 
head, was reduced at once to unconsciousness. 

“ Well, Del’ Peyra,” cried Guillem, in his harsh 
tones, rendered harsher by the feverishness and weari- 
ness of the past night, “ will you not stoop to beg of 
me your life ? ” 

“ It is of no use,” answered Ogier. 

“ Hold the lights, that I may see him ! ” ordered 
the Captain. 

Two of his men brought torches that emitted as 
much smoke as light. In the dungeon, darkened by 
the men crowding the door, artificial illumination was 
necessary. 

“ You are right there ! ” shouted Guillem, in re- 
sponse to the words of Ogier. “ I shall not spare 
your life. But what think you of the mode of death ? 
Come, kneel, kiss my foot — wounded through you ; 
and I may consent to have you hanged instead of 
thrown down yonder ! ” He indicated the well-like 
opening. 

The glare of the torches was on Guillem’s face as 
much as on that of his prisoner. He was haggard 


VADE IN PACE. 


157 


with pain and mortified pride. He was but half- 
dressed, was in his shirt, and his shirt was open over 
his red, hairy breast. His tall, polished head shone 
like copper in the lurid flicker of the links. His 
great mouth, half open with a grim laugh, revealed 
the teeth, pointed as though to bite and tear. He 
was very thin, but muscular, and his limbs were long. 
As already said, it was but in jest that he was entitled 
“ Le Gros.” 

It may be questioned whether in the heart of a 
single ruffian present there stirred the smallest emo- 
tion of pity for the man who was to be sent to so 
horrible a fate, for all had been humbled by Ogier, 
and all angrily resented their humiliation. More- 
over, all desired to avenge their ten companions. 

“ Hold up the light, that I may see how he relishes 
it ! ” ordered Guillem, brutally. Then he said ; 
“ Pull off his boots, strip him to his shirt.” 

But immediately he countermanded the order. 

“ Hay,” said he, “ leave him his leather belt and 
boots ; he may satisfy his cravings on them. And, 
Sieur Ogier, when you want more leather, call for my 
boots. They have been cut to pieces, and are useless 
to me. They may make a meal for you.” 

The Captain looked steadily at his victim from 
under his lowering eyebrows. 

“ How came you to think of resisting me ? ” he 
asked. 


158 


NO^lMI. 


Ogier shrugged his shoulders. 

“ This execution will be noised everywhere,” con- 
tinued Guillem. “ I shall take care of that. And 
then every man will have a wholesome dread of me, 
and a fear of resisting me.” 

“ Not my son Jean,” retorted Ogier. 

“ Your son Jean comes next,” said the Captain. 
“ I shall deal with him presently.” 

“ You must catch him first,” said Ogier. 

“ Take the prisoner to the hold ! ” shouted Guillem. 

Then the two Jailers laid their hands on the shoul- 
ders of Ogier del’ Peyra. 

“ You need not drag me. I can walk,” said the 
old man. 

■ Those crowding the close and narrow dungeon fell 
back, as well as they were able, to make a passage for 
the condemned man. 

He was taken to the well-mouth and seated on it, 
with his face towards the door, through which 
glimpses of sunlight were visible athwart the heads 
that filled the opening. Ogier had been divested of 
his jerkin. He was in his shirt and breeches and 
boots. As the Captain had bidden that his belt 
should be left him, this had been refastened about his 
waist, after that his coat had been removed. In order 
to divest him of his outer garments it had been neces- 
sary for the jailers to remove the handcuffs that had 
fastened his arms behind his back. 


VADE IN PACE. 


159 


Cursed smoke ! ” said Guillem. “We are 
smothered in the fume. Stand aside all of you and 
let the fresh air enter, that we may breathe. Hearken, 
Ogier ! Will you yet ask life of me? ” 

At Guillem’s command the men had stepped forth 
and completely cleared the entrance, so that the bril- 
liant sunlight flowed in as well as the pure air. And 
this light fell directly on the man who was soon to be 
excluded for ever from it. He was seated on the well- 
mouth in his white shirt. His face was as grey as 
the thick hair of his beard. He was conscious that 
he was looking for the last time at the light. He 
could see intense blue sky, and one fleecy cloud in it. 
He could see the green turf, and some yellow tansies 
standing against a bit of wall in shade, the tansies in 
full sunlight ; and he could see a red admiral butter- 
fly hovering about them. It was marvellous how, 
with death before him, he could yet distinguish so 
much. But he looked at everything with a sort of 
greed, because he saw all these things for the last 
time. For the first and only moment in his life he 
saw that a red admiral was beautiful, that the sky was 
beautiful, the grass beautiful. 

“ You have not answered me,” said Le Gros Guil- 
lem, sneering. “ Messire Ogier, will you yet ask life 
of me?” 

“ If you were in my hands, as I am in yours, would 
you ask that question ? ” 


160 


noI:mi. 


Le Gros Guillem paused one moment. Then with 
an oath — 

“No!” 

“ Nor I of you,” said Ogier gravely. 

Guillem raised his hands. The fingers were in- 
ordinately long and thin. He made a sign to the 
jailers, one of whom stood back, on each side of 
Ogier, by the well-mouth, with his hand on the 
shoulder of the prisoner. Each man, as was custom- 
ary, had his face covered — that is to say, a black sack 
was drawn over his head, in which were two holes cut, 
through which peered the eyes. 

“ Throw him down 1 ” 

At that moment, taking advantage of the avenue 
made for the admission of air, Noe mi rushed in. A 
couple of men stepped forward to intercept her, but 
she was too nimble for them ; she was within almost 
as soon as they thought of throwing themselves in 
her way, and had cast herself upon Ogier and clasped 
him with her arms. 

“ Father ! Father ! It cannot, it shall not be ! ” 

The door was filled again ; the men crowded in to 
see what new turn events would take, whether this 
intervention would avail. 

The jailers desisted as they were raising the old 
man ; they felt that the sight of the execution of the 
sentence could not be permitted to a young girl. 
Moreover, she held Del’ Peyra fast, and he could not 


VADE IN PACE. 


161 


be extricated from her arms without the exercise of 
force. 

“ Noemi ! ” exclaimed Le Gros Guillem, throwing 
his feet off the pallet, “ what is the meaning of this ? 
Why are you here ? At once away ! Do you hear 
me ? ” 

“ I will not let go ! He shall not die ! Father, it 
cannot — it shall not be ! ” 

“ Unloose her arms,” ordered Guillem, and signed 
to the men. 

Firmly they obeyed. It was in vain that the girl 
clung, writhed, endeavoured to disengage her arms 
from their grasp,, and clung to the condemned man. 
They held her like a vice and drew her back from 
the pit-mouth and interposed their persons between 
her and the man she was endeavouring to save. 

Then, in a paroxysm of horror and pity, ISTo^mi 
threw herself bn her knees before her father and im- 
plored him to yield. 

“ What is Del’ Peyra to you ? ” he asked sternly. 

“ Nothing — nothing,” she gasped. “ Oh, father, 
let him go ! let him go ! ” 

“ Twice have you interfered between me and him. 
Why is that?” 

She could not answer his question ; she did not at- 
tempt to do so. She persisted in her entreaties. In 
her anguish she caught hold of one of his injured 
feet and made him cry out with pain. 


162 




“ Father ! If I have ever done anything for you ! 
If you have any love for me — any thought to do what 
I wish — grant me this. Spare him ! Spare him ! ” 

“ Never ! ” answered Le Gros Guillem. Then 
he waved his long hand and said, “ Eemove this silly 
girl.” 

But when No^mi felt hands laid on her, she 
leaped to her feet, shook herself free, and said, pant- 
ing— 

“ Let be ! Do not touch me ! I ask his life, no 
more.” 

“You do well, child,” sneered the Captain. 
“ You then run no more risk of disappointment.” 

“ Yet — if that be denied me, there is one thing I 
do ask,” gasped Noemi. 

Her breath came as though she had been running 
up hill. She put her hands to her head, and held it, 
till she had recovered sufficiently to proceed. 

“ There is one thing I do ask,” she repeated. 
“ Do not cast him down — let him down gently.” 

A harsh laugh from Le Gros Guillem. 

“ You are a silly child, a fool, who know not what 
you ask. You will prolong his torture, not shorten it 
— but you shall have your wish. Be it so.” 

He waved to the jailers. 

“ Go, child, go ! ” said he to his daughter. 

“ I will stay and see it done,” she said. “ I will 
not ask another thing.” 


VADE IN PACE. 


163 


She stood erect and looked at the old man ; her 
mouth quivered, and her eyes were as though fixed 
hard in their sockets like stones in a setting. 

And the sight was one to freeze the blood. 

The jailers raised Ogier, who offered no resistance, 
but fixed his eyes strainingly on a spot of light above 
a man’s head in the doorway. 

He was lifted till his feet were above the well, and 
then he was let down by ropes passed under his arms, 
slowly, deliberately. 

Those holding the torches raised them, and the 
smoke described cabalistic devices on the roof. The 
glare was on the sinking man. 

He went down below his knees, then his waist dis- 
appeared. Involuntarily he put forth his arms to 
arrest his descent, by gripping the well-breast, but 
recollected that resistance was in vain, and lowered 
his arms to his sides. 

Then his breast was hidden, then his shoulders 
went under. For a moment all visible was the 
ghastly grey face with the glittering eyes, and then — 
that also was gone. 

He uttered no cry, no groan, he went down like a 
dead man, into profound darkness, into his living 
tomb. 

All was still in the dungeon, save for the labour- 
ing breath of those who looked on. The jailers low- 
ered till the ropes became slack. Then they knew 


164 


NOfeMI. 


the poor wretch was on the floor of the vault below. 
Each man threw down one end of his rope and drew 
at the other, even as at a funeral the ropes are with- 
drawn when the dead has been lowered. 

In the stillness, Guillem laughed — silently — show- 
ing all his fangs, and wavin^is arms in the direction 
of the ouUiette mouth, and extending his lean fingers 
said — 

“ Vade in pace ! ” 


CHAPTER XVIL 


IK THE KAVEK’S KEST. 

Whek Le Gros Guillem was carried back to his 
room, he said to his wife, “ Where is Xoemi?” 

“ I believe — that is, I suppose she is going to her 
Aunt Tarde at La Roque. She said something about 
it. Something has occurred and she is not herself. 
I don’t know what it is.” 

“ I dare say ! ” laughed the Captain. “ Hoemi has 
witnessed this day what has been seen by few girls. 
She stood it manfully — at the last.” 

“ I dare say. I know nothing about it,” said his 
wife. 

“ If she is going to La Roque, then Roger and 
Amanieu shall accompany her. I have a letter to 
transmit to Ste. Soure.” 

He sent for writing materials, and wrote in a 
scrawling hand : 

“ Dear and most valiant friend. Seigneur Jean del’ 

Peyra at Le Peuch Ste. Soure. — Please you to know 
165 


166 


mtMi. 


that your father is let down into oblivion. Dear and 
well-loved Sir, God have you ever in guard. 

“Written at Domme, Wednesday, and sent by the 
hands of Koger and Amanieu.” 

That was the fashion of epistolary correspondence 
as conducted in those times. “ Dear friend ” was the 
salutation to a deadly foe, “ God have you ever in 
guard,” when the writer would like to cut the throat 
of him he addressed. 

Such was the letter received by Jean del’ Peyra. 
It was not explicit. He had been in the greatest 
anxiety relative to his father. That he would be 
put to ransom was his hope, but not his expecta- 
tion. 

He looked to the bearer of the epistle for explana- 
tion, and then for the first time saw Noemi, her face 
rigid and ghastly, as though she had seen a ghost, and 
could not shake off the impression. 

“ Jean,” she said, “ let them go back. I will tell 
you all, between you and myself. No, not back. Step 
aside.” 

When Noemi saw that she and Jean were alone 
she said — 

“Do you not understand? Your father — he has 
been let down into an oubliette^'^ 

Jean started back as though he had been struck in 
the face by a mailed hand. 


IN THE RAVEN’S NEST. 16 Y 

“ And now,” proceeded Noemi, “ there is but one 
chance for him, one way open to you.” 

“ Where — where is it ? ” gasped the lad. 

“ At Domme. No, you cannot storm that castle. 
It has held out against French and English, and it 
would hold out against your peasants.” 

Jean looked at her in silence. What other way 
was open ? 

“ You must go yourself to Domme,” she said. 

“And entreat for my father? We will sell all — 
land, castle, seigneury — all ! ” 

“ That will not suffice. The Captain would take 
you and cast you in where lies your unhappy 
father.” 

“ Then what do you mean ? ” 

“ You must take me.” 

“ Along with me — to Domme ? ” 

“ No, take and confine me here.” 

“ I do not un'derstand.” 

“ I can — I saw it. I saw it at once when I was in 
that horrible place, when my father refused to listen 
to me and I pleaded for him. Then I saw clearly 
there was no other chance for his life.” 

“ And that is ? ” 

“ That you put me into the same position.” 

“ What, in an ouUiette f” 

“ Put me in a dungeon, and threaten unless your 
father be restored, and back here safe by sunrise to- 


168 


NOfiMI. 


morrow, that you will cast me down as he has been 
cast down.” 

“We have no oubliettes here.” 

“ You have precipices.” 

Jean looked in astonishment at the girl. 

“ See, Jean !” she said, and a dark spot came in 
each cheek, “by no other way can you rescue your 
father than by going before him — I mean my father, 
and threatening that unless your father be released 
immediately, you will have me put to the same horri- 
ble end.” 

“ Never ! ” 

“ It must be.” 

“ It would never be done — never.” 

“ Listen to me, Jean. You must have me impris- 
oned here. .Place guards over me and go to my 
father fearlessly. Say to him that the instant the first 
spark of the sun lifts over yon hill ” — she pointed to 
the heights opposite — “if the Seigneur and you are 
not here to stay their hands, you have told your 
guards to throw me down.” 

“ If I were to threaten it, it would not be done.” 

“ Yes, it would. Do you suppose that your peas- 
ants here and your armed men would spare me if they 
knew that' their Seigneur and his son had both been 
sacrificed by Le Gros Guillem ? They would tear me 
to pieces. The women would stab me with their bod- 
kins. I had rather be dashed down the cliffs than that.” 


IN THE RAVEN’S NEST. 


169 


The young man remained silent, considering. The 
girl’s proposal did give him a hope of recovering his 
father; the threat, which he did not for a moment 
entertain the thought of executing, might, perhaps, 
force the routier captain to surrender his prey. 

Noemi plucked a ring from her finger and ex- 
tended it to Jean. 

“ I see,” said she, “ you will yield. Take this as 
token to my father that I am here, as sign that your 
menace is not an idle one. Now lead me away.” 

In the congeries of precipitous cliffs, like teeth, 
that rise above Ste. Soure and go by the name of Le 
Peuch, one possesses a rock- refuge of a peculiar char- 
acter. To reach it a steep ascent has to be effected up 
an almost vertical piece of rock, in which places have 
been cut for the feet. This climb gives access to a 
grassy ledge. If this ledge be pursued, a buttress of 
crag is reached that completely blocks the terrace. 
But this has been scooped out, like a carious tooth, into 
a chamber or guard- room. It is entered by a door 
artificially cut, and he who explores the place there 
finds himself in an apartment with a window dug 
through the face looking south, and with sheer preci- 
pice below it. At the back are seats cut in the stone. 

Immediately opposite the entrance is another door, 
communicating with another ledge, which, however, 
does not extend more than ten feet, and ends in steep 
cliff. Along the face of this cliff holes have been 


170 


NOfeMl. 


scooped for the reception of the feet, so that a man 
can walk along the front of the rock till he reaches a 
projecting mass like that he has traversed, and this 
mass is excavated into a series of chambers. 

This rock-refuge is one that could not be taken, if 
only moderate precautions were observed. The man 
who passed in the socket-holes for his feet to the door 
of the first chamber scooped out in the scar must trav- 
erse in front of *a window, through which it would 
suffice for a child to thrust his hand to touch him to 
upset his balance and send him headlong below to cer- 
tain death. 

There was no place better calculated to serve as a 
prison than this Raven’s Nest, as it was called. Jean 
was by no means sure that what No6mi said might not 
come true ; if the peasants learned who she was, they 
might take advantage of his absence literally to tear 
her to pieces, for they were greatly exasperated at the 
loss of their master, the old Seigneur. If he were to 
leave the girl for some hours at Le Peuch, she must 
not only be protected against an attempt at recapture, 
but against the resentment of his own people, who 
might lose their heads when they found that he as well 
as his father was lost to them. A woman like Rossi- 
gnol’s wife was a firebrand inflamed with unslaked lust 
for revenge. A few words from her might set all in 
movement. The Southern Gauls are an impulsive, 
excitable, and, when excited, an unreasoning people. 


IN THE RAVEN’S NEST. 


171 


The routiers had not spared their wives and daughters, 
why should they scruple about reprisals on the daugh- 
ter of their deadliest oppressor? 

Distressed as Jean was at his father’s fate, the 
fear of what might happen to Noemi if left alone 
at Le Peuch for a moment overbore his filial dis- 
tress. 

“ You must follow me,” he said ; and he beckoned 
to the two men who had attended her to accompany 
him as well. 

Without further words he led them up the ascent, 
along the ledge, and into the guard-room. 

There he said to Amanieu and Roger — 

“ Your Captain’s daughter is going to remain yon- 
der.” He pointed across the gulf to the rock cham- 
bers in the projecting mass of cliff. “ I shall not be 
at Ste. Soure to protect her. You know what these 
people are. Even you are not safe, though my father 
granted you both your lives. As I see, you no longer 
bear the brand of lawlessness. Do not concern your- 
self about what takes me away. I leave you here in 
guard of her. Let no one approach. Yonder, in those 
retreats, there is always a supply of food, in case of 
emergency. There is water also. You need not en- 
ter for that. She will pass to you what you require 
through the window. Keep guard here for her sake 
and for your own, till I return.” Then to Koemi 

he said, “ Dare you follow me ? ” 

12 


172 




“ I ! ” she said, and almost laughed. “ Have you 
forgotten the stair to the Bishop’s Castle ? ” 

Jean stepped off the platform, and walked along 
the face of the rock and was immediately followed by 
the girl, without the least misgiving or giddiness. 

On reaching the door cut in the crag on the fur- 
ther side, Jean stepped in. 

These rock chambers are cool in summer and 
warm in winter. There was no well here dug in the 
heart of the rock. Probably owing to its height above 
the level of the Vezdre — some 300 feet — it had not 
been thought likely that a vein of water would be 
tapped ; so the atmospheric moisture was caught by 
little runnels scored in the rock, and all these runnels 
led into a receiver, in which there was generally to be 
found a supply of water, though not a great quantity. 
Each window was provided with shutters, and doors 
fitted into the entrances, and could be fastened. Beds 
were scooped in the rock, arched above, and these 
couches were strewn with heather and fern. In cup- 
boards cut in the walls were stores, to be used in case 
of necessity. 

When Jean had shown the girl everything, he 
held out his hand. 

“ Noemi ! ” he said, and his voice shook, “ good-bye ! 
We may never meet again. But do not think that 
harm would be done you by me — even if the worst 
were to happen ! ” 


IN THE RAVEN’S NEST. 


1Y3 


“ J ean ! ” she answered gravely, and went to the 
doorway, and looked down. “ Do you think that 
anyone who fell here, who tripped coming along these 
steps, who stumbled at the threshold, would not be 
dashed to pieces in an instant? ” 

“ I am sure he would. That is what affords you 
protection here.” 

“I do not mean that, Jean.” She refrained from 
speaking for a moment. He put out his hand to her, 
and she took his. Both their hands trembled. 

“ Jean, I shall watch for the sunrise from the lit- 
tle window. If you and your father have not re- 
turned- ” 

“ Then we shall both perish together in the ou~ 

Uietter 

“ Yes — and the moment the sun comes up ” 

“ Hoemi — what then ? ” 

“ The moment I see the first fire-spark ” 

“ Noemi ! ” He feared to hear what she was go- 
ing to say. 

“ Yes, Jean, I shall throw myself down — here.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


IN' THE DEPTHS. 

Befoke that Jean del’ Peyra ventured to cross the 
Dordogne and approach Domme, he fastened a white 
kerchief to his cap, as token that he came on peaceful 
errand, as bearer of a message. As such he was re- 
ceived within the walls, and was conducted to the 
castle, and given admission to the vaulted hall in 
which lay Le Gros Guillem on his pallet with his 
feet up. 

The long, lean, pale-faced man looked hard at him 
when admitted, and said — 

“ Who are you ? ” 

“ I am Jean del’ Peyra,” answered the lad, and 
cast his cap with its white appendage on the table. 

“Jean del’ Peyra! and you venture here!” roared 
the Captain. “ You must in verity he a fool ! ” 

“ I came — trusting to that,” said the youth with 
composure, pointing to the white token. 

“ Then you came trusting in vain. I regard it 
not.” 


174 


IN THE DEPTHS. 


1Y5 


“Perhaps you will regard this,” said Jean, ex- 
tending the ring, which he plucked from his little 
finger. 

The Captain looked at the signet, started, and 
brayed forth — 

“ That belongs to No6mi ! How came you by 
that? You have murdered her.” 

“ I have not murdered her. If she dies it will be 
through you. She is my captive.” 

“ I do not understand.” 

Le Gros Guillem slipped his feet from the paltfet 
to the floor. He could not walk, he could not even 
stand, as his feet were swathed in rags. 

“ It is not difficult to enlighten your understand- 
ing,” said Jean. “ You sent away your daughter 
with two men as her guard. They are all in my 
power. They are at Le Peuch. Their fate — that is 
to say, hers — depends on you.” 

“ So — you war against girls ! ” 

“ If we do violence to the young and feeble, from 
whom have we learned the lesson but from you and 
your ruffians ?” 

“You know what I have done to your father,” 
said the freebooter, malignantly. “I will do the 
same to you.” 

“ And the same fate will befall your daughter — at 
once,” said Jean, decidedly. 

The Captain was staggered. He was uneasy. He 


176 


N0^1MI. 


said sullenly: “For what purpose have you come 
here?’’ 

“For this,” answered Jean. “With your own 
hand you have let me know where my father is. Un- 
less he be released, and allowed to return with me to 
Le Peuch, your daughter will perish miserably.” 

Jean went to the window. The Captain looked 
suspiciously after him. 

“ The sun is setting,” said the young man. “ In 
an hour it will be gone. Unless before he reappears 
in the East, unless, to the moment of his rising, my 
father and I are not returned to Le Peuch safe and 
sound, it will he too late. Your daughter saw what 
was done to the old man — what think you of a like 
fate for her ? ” 

“ I do not believe she is in your hands. She is at 
La Eoque.” 

“ Send to La Eoque, if you will, and inquire — 
only remember that will take time, and time is pre- 
cious. We must he back at Le Peuch before the first 
spark of the sun reappears, or the deed will be done. 
Your daughter will be dead.” 

Le Gros Guillem’s face became ashy grey with 
alarm and rage, commingled with embarrassment. 

“Besides,” said Jean with composure, “look at 
the ring. You know that it is taken from her fin- 
ger.” 

The Captain turned the ring about in his hand. 


IN THE DEPTHS. 


177 

Then he struck the table with his clenched fist and 
screamed — 

“ Outwitted ! outwitted again ! The devil is fight- 
ing for you ! ” 

“ Rather is he deserting you to whom you sold 
yourself,” retorted Jean. 

The chief remained sullen, with knitted brow and 
clenched teeth, brooding. 

“ The sun is set,” said Jean, and pointed through 
the window. 

The yellow fiame had disappeared that had fiushed 
the hills on the further side of the Dordogne, the 
wooded slopes and the tall rock of Vitrac, itself a 
natural fortress. ^ 

The Captain moved uneasily on his pallet, and 
looked furtively at his guards near the door. 

Jean read his thought. 

“Nothing you can do is of any avail, save the re- 
lease of my father. The first ray of sun that lights 
the sky sees the spark of life die out in your Noemi’s 
heart.” 

“ What guarantee have I that you will not play me 
false, and refuse to give her up ? ” 

“ My word, my honour, and that of my father. 
Send men with me if you will. Only remember now 
that time is winged and is flying.” 

With a horrible oath, Le Gros Guillem again struck 
the table and called to the guards. They approached. 


178 


NOllMl. 


4 

“ Take him ” — he indicated Jean — “ take him to 
the ouhliette chamber,” said he ; “ let cords down, re- 
lease the man, and let both go as they will.” 

He flung hToemi’s ring on the table, and cast his 
maimed feet on the pallet once more, and clenched 
his teeth and knitted his red. brows. 

Jean took up the ring and said : “ I will return 
this to her.” 

The guards now conducted him to the keep. 
Lights were provided, also cords ; the door into the 
cell was opened ; and with a shudder Jean entered. 

Snatching a torch from one of the men, he went 
to the breastwork of the well, and leaning over it, let 
^le torch flare down the abyss. 

“ Father ! ” he cried ; “ my father ! ” 

Then he paused for an answer. 

There was none. • 

With the link he endeavoured to illumine the 
depths below, but found that this was not possible. 
He could see nothing save an awful blackness, in 
which the rays of the torch lost themselves, without 
illumining any object. 

“ Father ! ” again he cried. 

This time he heard a sound — an inarticulate 
groan. 

“ Let me down. I must go to him,” said Jean. 

“ You cannot take a light with you,” said one of 
the men. 


IN THE DEPTHS. I79 

“ You can carry one down unlighted, and kindle 
it when you are below,” said a second. 

Jean saw that it was as the men said. The orifice 
and throat of the well were so narrow that he most 
descend without holding a burning light. He nodded, 
and slipped his arms through the loops in the cords. 

“ Give me a candle,” said he, and one was imme- 
diately handed to him. 

Then he seated himself on the well-breast, with 
his feet hanging down inside; and when the men 
were ready, thrust himself off. 

Jean was lowered gradually down the bottle-throat, 
till all at once the sides fell away, and he was swing- 
ing in space.* The effect of being suddenly plunged 
in absolute blackness of darkness is not so startling as 
some might suppose. The retina of the eye carries 
with it an impression of light ; and as Jean was let 
down through void space of absolutely rayless gloom, 
it seemed to him as though a rosy halo attended 
him ; he could, indeed, discern nothing — no object 
whatever — but he could not suppose that he did not. 
All at once his feet touched ground. Then he re- 
leased his arms, and struck a light with steel and flint. 
Some time elapsed before the tinder kindled, and 


* The description of the interior of the oubliette is in accord- 
ance with that into which the author was lowered at Castelnau 
le Bretenoux. The ruin of the castle at Domrae is so complete 
that the oubliettes there, if they existed, are buried. 


180 




from the tinder he was able to ignite the candle. 
Jean’s hand shook. He was nervous lest he should 
see his father dead or dying. It seemed inexplicable 
to him that he was not answered readily when he 
called. Finally, the yellow flame flickered. Then 
the lad raised the candle above his head and looked 
about him. He was in a dungeon some thirteen feet 
square, built of hewn stones in large blocks, laid to- 
gether with the flnest joints, that did not show mor- 
tar. The sides were perfectly smooth. The cham- 
ber was arched overhead; there was in it no door, 
no window, no hole of any sort save that in the 
midst of the vault overhead, through which he had 
descended. 

Against the wall, lying with his head raised, his 
eyes open, looking at the light, not at Jean, was his 
father, his legs extended on the cold floor, and about 
him were strewn the bones of dead men, skulls and 
skeletons, more or less disturbed by the blind groping 
of the last victim. 

J ean at once went to the old man. 

“ Father ! dear father ! ” he said. 

“ Eh?” 

“ It is I — Jean.” 

“Eh?” 

“ I have come to release you.” 

“ Eh?” 

The old man’s senses seemed lost. 


IN THE DEPTHS. 


181 


J ean at once knelt, and drawing a phial from his 
breast, poured into Ogier’s mouth a spirit distilled 
from the juniper berries that grow on the Causse. 

His father drew a deep inspiration. 

“ It is a long night, and a bad dream,” he said. 
“ Where are the tansy and the butterfly?” 

“ Father, no time is to be lost. Can you rise ? ” 

The old man scrambled to his feet. He was as 
one in a trance. Jean led him to the cords, and 
thrust his father’s arms through the loops. 

“Mind and hold your hands down,” he said. 
“Father, you will see the light of day! the light of 
day ! Be quick ! you will see it before it is gone.” 

“ The light — the sun ? ” asked Ogier, eagerly. 

“The sun is set, father; but you will see the 
evening sky and the stars.” 

“ The light 1 0 my God 1 the light, do you say ? ” 

“ Draw him up ! ” ordered Jean, and watched with 
great anxiety as the ropes were strained and the old 
Seigneur’s feet left the ground. Then Ogier was car- 
ried up, and passed with head, then shoulders through 
the oriflce in the vault. 

It seemed to Jean as though half an hour elapsed 
before the ropes descended again. When he saw them 
fall, then he eagerly blew out the candle, and com- 
mitted himself to the cords. In three minutes he 
was above ground. He saw his father standing in the 
doorway, looking out over the terrace at the clear 


182 


NO^)MI. 


evening sky, drawing in long breaths of the sweet 
pure air of evening into his lungs. 

Jean turned to the two men. 

“ I thank you,” ho said. “ Here is gold. If I can 
do aught to repay you, in the many troubles and 
changes of affairs that occur, it shall be done. Your 
name ? ” 

“ I am Peyrot le Fort.” 

“ And I, Heliot Prebost.” 

“Enough! I shall not forget. We must away. 
Lead me once more to the Captain.” 

Jean took his father under the arm. The old 
man walked along with tolerable steadiness, but said 
nothing. He was as one stupefied. He did not seem 
to realise that he had been released, but to be labour- 
ing under uncertainty whether he were dreaming that 
he was at liberty or not, and was oppressed with the 
dread of waking to find himself in the abyss. 

Jean and his father were introduced into the hall 
where lay Le Gros Guillem. The Captain had not 
allowed lights to be introduced, as his eyes were 
somewhat inflamed by the irritation which pervaded 
him. 

“ Captain,” said Jean. “ You must remember that 
this is not all. The day is spent. We must travel 
all night, and I have a horse awaiting my father. But 
you have despoiled him of his coat. He cannot leave 
in his shirt.” 


IN THE DEPTHS. 183 

“ I have not his coat,” said Guillem, roughly. “ I 
restore the man, that suffices.” 

“ It does not suffice. Give him back his jerkin.” 

“ The executioner — the jailer has it. It is his per- 
quisite.” 

“ I cannot go after him. Send for it yourself. 
Consider what you are apt to forget, that time is all- 
important.” 

“ Here ! ” ordered the Captain. “ Bring the old fel- 
low one of mine — any worn one will suffice.” 

A moment later a leather coat was given to Jean, 
brought by a serving-man. It was dark in the hall. 
Le Gros Guillem did not concern himself to look at 
what was produced. Probably the serving-man him- 
self had taken the garment in a hurry without regard- 
ing it. 

As Jean threw the jerkin over his father’s shoul- 
ders, he felt that it was lined throughout with metal 
rings, and was impervious to a sword-blow or a pike- 
thrust. 

As Ogier, invested in this garment, prepared to de- 
part, the Captain, with brutal insolence, shouted — 

“ Seigneur ! was it cold and black below? ” 

The old man did not reply. 

“We two have met thrice,” pursued Le Gros Guil- 
lem. “ Once I fell on you at Ste. Soure and made you 
run,” he laughed harshly ; “ secondly, you fell on me 
unawares, and 1 came off the worst. The third time 


184 


NO^:MI. 


we met on the Beune. It might be esteemed a drawn 
battle, but as I had captured you, I had got what I 
wanted. However, I have been over-reached; I am 
outwitted once more this time. Take care how we 
encounter for the fourth time. Do you mark me, 
Ogier del’ Peyra? The fourth time — that will be the 
fatal meeting for one or other of us. The fourth time, 
Ogier.’ 

“ The fourth time. I shall remember,” said the 
old man dreamily, and touched his forehead. 

“ Lead him away. Peyrot and Heliot, you shall 
ride with the Sieur and his son to Le Peuch. Stay a 
moment ! a word before you go.” 

He waited till Del’ Peyra and his son had left the 
hall and were descending to the courtyard. Then he 
said — 

“ Attend them till you are at Le Peuch, get my 
daughter safely into your hands, and then cut them 
down — these cursed Del’ Peyras — and bring me their 
heads at your saddle-bows. You shall be paid what 
you choose to ask.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


A KIGHT RIDE. 

Wheit Jean del’ Peyra with his father and escort 
arrived at the point opposite the house of the ferry- 
man on the Dordogne he shouted for the boat. 

Xight had set in, but the moon would rise in an 
hour ; in the meanwhile some light lingered over the 
sunken sun, and the stars were shining faintly. 

The river gliding on in rapid descent, but without 
rush and coil, reflected the light above. It was as 
though a heaven of sparks seen through tears lay at 
the feet of* Jean as he stood and waited in vain for 
the ferry. 

He was vexed at the delay. Time was speeding 
along. His father’s condition made him uneasy. 
The old man was singularly reticent and stolid; he 
expressed no satisfaction at his release. 

After waiting and renewing his shouts to no pur- 
pose, one of the men said — 

“ There is a wedding in this ferryman’s wife’s fam- 
ily. I have a notion that he may have gone to the 

185 


186 


NO^:MI. 


merrymaking. It is not often that there are passen- 
gers at night that need his punting-pole.’’ 

“We must try the ford,” said the other. 

“Where is that?” asked Jean, impatiently. 

“ Further down.” 

“ Then lead to it immediately. We have already 
squandered too much valuable time.” 

The party now descended the river-bank till the 
spot was reached where the Dordogne could be trav- 
ersed without danger by the horsemen. 

The beasts went in. There had not been much 
rain of late, consequently the ford was passable. The 
water, however, surged up the leg when the horses had 
entered to their girths. 

Then, all at once, Ogier del Peyra laughed. 

“ What is it, father?” asked Jean, startled. 

“ It is not a vision. I am ^not asleep ! ” 

The old man had been oppressed with fear, lest 
what he went through was a phantasm of the brain, 
and lest he should wake to the hideous reality of a liv- 
ing entombment. The swash of the cold water over 
his foot, up his calf, above his knee, was the first thing 
that roused him to the certainty that he was really free. 

Without difficulty and danger the little party 
crossed the river; they ascended the fianks of the 
great plateau and passed at once into oak woods. 
Thence, after a while, they emerged upon a bald track, 
where there was hardly any soil at all, and the whole 


A NIGHT RIDE. 


187 


region seemed to be struck with perpetual hoar-frost. 
The hoe, even the foot turned up chalk-flakes. Noth- 
ing could grow on so barren a surface. 

The moon rose and made the waste look colder, 
deader than under the starlight. 

Suddenly shouts were heard, and at the same mo- 
ment before the little party rushed an old grey wolf. 
As he passed he turned to them with a snarl that 
showed his fangs gleaming as ivory in the moonlight. 
He did not stop — he fled precipitately ; and next mo- 
ment from out of a dell rushed a troop of men armed 
with pikes, pitchforks, and cudgels, attended by a le- 
gion of farm-dogs yelping vigorously. 

The little party drew up. . The moon gleamed on 
the morions and the steel plates sewn on the bufl jer- 
kins, and black to westward on the white causse * lay 
the shadows of horses and men. 

A portion of those pursuing the wolf halted. 
“ Haro ! Haro ! ” shouted one man. “ Here are hu- 
man wolves, the worst of all ! Let us kill them be- 
fore we run the other down.” 

In the clear moonlight they had seen the crosses of 
the routiers on the arms of the two men sent from 
Homme. In a moment the party was surrounded, and 
the two freebooters to protect themselves drew their 
swords. 


* The Causse, from Calx, is the chalk or limestone plateau. 
13 


188 


NOfiMI. 


Jean pushed forward. “My friends, do you not 
know me? We are the Del’ Peyras, and my father is 
but just released from bondage. I am taking him 
home.” 

“ We will not hurt you, Messire Jean,” said a peas- 
ant. “ But these fellows with you — they are beasts of 
prey. They have killed our men. Stand aside, that 
we may knock them off their horses and then beat out 
their brains.” 

“ You shall not do this.” 

“ Why not ? They are brigands, and not fit to 
live.” 

“ They are under my protection.” 

The peasants were ill satisfied ; having felt their 
power they had become impatient of all restraint 
on it. 

“ Look here,” said Jean, “ my honour and my 
father’s are engaged for these men. Do not force us 
to draw our swords on their behalf.” 

“How do you know but that they will fall on 
you?” 

“ They dare not,” answered Jean. 

“ I would trust a wolf rather than one of these. 
Come on ! ” The last address was to his fellows. 

Then those who had halted turned and ran in the 
track of such as were pursuing the wolf. 

What J ean del’ Peyra had said was true enough. 
The two men attending him would not dare to com- 


A NIGHT HIDE. Igg 

mit an act of treachery on the way to Ste. Soure. He 
and his father were safe till Noerai was restored. 

Jean spoke to his father. The old man was silent 
as he rode ; now he roused himself as from a trance 
to answer Jean. 

“ What did you say, my son ? ” 

“ Father, we must push on at a quicker pace.” 

“ I cannot push on — I want to go to sleep.” 

“ To sleep, father ? ” 

“ I am falling from my horse with fatigue. I 
must get off. I must lie down. I have not had my 
proper rest.” 

Jean was dismayed ; time was slipping along, the 
moon describing her arch in heaven ; he must reach 
Le Peuch before daybreak, and now his father asked 
for a halt. It was true that he had allowed time for 
resting the horses on the way, but how long would 
the old man require for his repose ? The strain on 
his nerves, the horror of the darkness and expectation 
of a lingering death in the vault, had been so great 
that a reaction had set in, and he was unable to keep 
his eyes open. 

“ Father,” said the young man, “ you cannot tarry 
here on the open causse^ we must get on, into the cop- 
pice, to a charcoal-burner’s lodge. There is one at no 
great distance.” 

A few minutes later Jean looked at his father. 
The old man had let fall his bridle, his head was sunk 


190 




on his breast; in another moment he would have 
dropped from his saddle. 

The youth called to him, and Ogier started and 
said : 

“ I am coming — directly.” 

In another second he was again asleep. 

It was needful to dismount and make Ogier walk. 
So alone could he be kept awake. Half a mile distant 
was the charcoal-burner’s heap, and a rude cabin of 
branches beside it. 

One of the roiitiers led Ogier’s horse. The old 
man became angry and irritable at being forced to 
walk. He scolded his son, he complained that he was 
badly treated ; in vain did Jean explain that he de- 
sired him to go on but a little way. The Seigneur 
stood still, and said he must sit down — he could not, 
he would not proceed. 

Then Jean poured the rest of his flask of spirit 
down Ogier’s throat, and said peremptorily, “You 
shall come on, whether you will or no.” 

The old Seigneur obeyed, grumbled, and in a few 
minutes was at the charcoal-burning station, and had 
flung himself on a bed of fern in the hut, and was 
asleep almost as soon as he had cast himself on the 
bracken. 

The charcoal-burner recognised Jean del’ Peyra, 
and saluted him respectfully, but looked askance at 
the two routiers. 


A NIGHT RIDE. 


191 


“ Have you seen or heard anything of the hunt?” 
asked the collier. “ My mate has gone with the rest 
after the wolf. You see that grey beast has already 
carried off three children. Yesterday it was Mascot’s 
babe — and now all the country is up; and they are 
going to run the wolf down. There is a ring formed 
round the causse. They lured him with a dead sheep. 
It is to be trusted they will kill him.” 

Jean said a word or two in reply. He was very 
uneasy. The heaviness with which his father slept 
showed him that he was in no condition to be roused 
at the end of the hour and made to remount. Ogier’s 
strength was exhausted, and this was not to be won- 
dered at, considering what he had gone through. 

Jean spoke to the collier, and explained to him 
that he proposed letting the old man remain where he 
was and sleep his full. He himself must ride on with 
his companions, and he would return in the morning 
for his father. 

Meanwhile the routiers had drawn aside and were 
conversing in a low tone. 

“ What say you, Heliot ? The old fellow will not 
ride on.” 

‘‘ Then one of us must stay, Peyrot,” answered the 
other, “ and the other proceed with the young one.” 

“ Why not finish them at once ? ” 

“You fool! We cannot — we must recover the 
demoiselle first.” 


192 


m-tm. 


“ That is true — I will stay — you ride forward.” 

“ It is one to me which I dispatch,” said Heliot. 
“ You can remain, Peyrot, and it is well for us that 
the Seigneur has broken down.” 

“Why so?” 

“ Because we should have found it difficult to lay 
hands on them at Ste. Soure or at Le Peuch, among 
their own people.” 

“ There will be Amanieu and Eoger.” 

“Yes — Amanieu and Roger; but all depends — if 
there be only women about the thing will be easy 
enough, but if men be there in arms, I do not see how 
we could do it.” 

“ But now ” 

“ Exactly — now all is coming smooth to our 
hands,” said Heliot. “ For the young Seigneur must 
return hither to fetch his father — and on the Causse, 
here among the coppice, away from all habitations, we 
can dispatch them easily.” 

“ I will kill the old man at once — as soon as you 
have ridden on,” said Peyrot. 

“As you like — but you cannot reckon on the 
collier. He is a big man. If you kill him first, well 
and good ; but if he be on the alert, and you note how 
suspiciously he looks at us, then he may escape and run 
and give the alarm, so my sword will be prevented 
taking the fresher blood of the young Del’ Peyra.” 

“ Then what would you have me do ? ” 


A NIGHT RIDE. 


193 


“ Remain here. Disarm the suspicions of the 
charcoal-burner. Keep near the Seigneur, especially 
in the morning. If he be awake, be at his side; if 
asleep, watch by his bed. The collier must attend to 
his charcoal. When I draw near with the demoiselle 
and Amanieu and Roger, and the young man, then 
cut him down and take his head. I will do the same 
to the youth.” 

Presently the voice of Jean was heard summoning 
them to mount. His impatience would not endure a 
longer delay. 

Peyrot le Fort came up and said : “ I am not 
going further.” 

“ Kot coming on ? You must.” 

“ I cannot ; my horse is lame.” 

“ Lame ! I did not observe that as we rode along.” 

“ You had no eyes save for your father.” 

“ If lame, of course you must stay. We cannot — 
we dare not linger here longer. Tarry with my father 
till we return.” 

Then Jean went into the booth of the charcoal- 
burner and looked at his sleeping father. Within 
was dark, and accidentally he touched the old man’s 
foot. At once Ogier started into a sitting posture, 
and cried out, “ Yes, yes, Guillem ! The fourth time 
— I shall not forget ! ” 

Then he threw himself back, and was sound asleep 
again. 


CHAPTER XX. 


THE KING. 

Noemi could not sleep that night. She sat in 
her rocky prison looking out over the valley of the 
Vezere at the distant landscape bathed in glorious 
moonlight. Opposite Le Peuch the rocks are not 
precipitous; there is a falling away of the plateau 
into soft undulations and stages, rounded in the wood 
and sombre in their mantle of trees. 

The moon was full — so bright that it eclipsed 
every star save its attendant Venus; the whole sky 
was infused with light, the darkness of the deep blue 
turned to grey. The Vezere gleamed as a plate of 
molten silver below. 

The river passed with a sigh rather than a mur- 
mur. How white, dazzling white, those clilfs must 
seem facing the moon, standing up like gigantic 
horse-teeth ! The moon smote in at the window 
where sat Xoemi. It bathed her face, her arm that 
was raised to sustain her chin. 

How glorious was the world ! how peaceful ! how 
194 


THE RING. 


195 


happy ! Only man, with his lust of rapine, his love 
of violence, transformed it into a place of torment. 
What if there were no parties — one English, the other 
French — but all this fair land reposed under a single 
sceptre ! And what if that one sceptre controlled 
evildoers, put down lawlessness, and, extended over 
the land, bid it rest! What if all evildoers were 
rooted out, and first among these Le Gros Guillem ! 

Below in Ste. Soure was the sound of a human 
voice, of a woman singing to her child that wept and 
would not sleep. NToemi could not hear the words, 
but she knew the air, and with her lips murmured — f 

B’aqui la luno 

Se y’n abio dios, t’en dounarioy uno ! 

“ Moon, moon ! gloriously bright ! If there were two 
I would give thee one ! I would give thee one — thee ! 
thee ! ” 

To whom would she give the moon if there were 
two, and one were at her disposal? The mother 
would give it to her babe because her whole heart was 
for that child. And she — Noe mi — to whom would 
she give the moon — to whom ? 

Was she not going to give something better than 
the moon — even her precious life ? 

Yes; not for a moment did she waver in her 
resolution. If Jean del’ Peyra did not return on 
the morrow by first sun-peep she would cast herself 


196 


mtm. 


down — and what matter? Would life be worth a 
rush to her when she knew that Jean was dead? 
Dead he would be, if he did not return — dead, along 
with his father — 

B’aqui lo vito ! 

Se y’n abio dios, t’en dounarioy lu doiii I 

“ liife ! life ! precious life ! If I had two I would give 
thee both ! ” 

The night passed slowdy, and still Noe mi sat at 
the opening in the rock. The moon had mounted 
high in heaven and sailed down the western sky. It 
no longer peered into the rock- chamber, no long- 
er flooded her form as she sat motionless at the 
opening. 

Her brain had no rest. Thoughts turned and 
twisted in her head. Again and ever again she asked 
whether for her sake her father would yield up his 
prey — sacriflce the opportunity offered him of putting 
his foot down at once on and crushing the Del’ Peyra 
family in the persons of father and son together. She 
knew the implacability of his temper, the ruthlessness 
with which when offended he pursued his revenge to 
the end. Dear she might be to him, but was she 
dearer than vengeance on such as had humiliated him 
as he had never been humiliated before? The air 
became raw and chill, with that rawness and chill 
which precede dawn. 


THE RING. 


197 


Noemi rose and went to the door and looked across 
the chasm to the guard-room, which, it will be remem- 
bered, was an excavation in a rocky buttress. Hold- 
ing the jambs she looked and listened. She could 
hear no sound. Amanieu and Roger were asleep. 
They had not been disturbed during the day, and in 
confidence that no danger menaced, they had cast 
themselves on the bed and slept. Still holding the 
Jambs, she leaned forward and looked down. Below 
all was dark. The moon was behind the hill, and its 
shadow lay black along the slope. There was so 
much light in the sky that she was able to distinguish 
in the depths masses of white rock, lying about faintly 
discernible like high up vaporous white cloud in a 
summer sky — rocks there on which her head would 
dash and her limbs be broken within a few hours, un- 
less Jean and his father appeared— white rocks there 
that would be splashed with her blood. If Le Gros 
Guillem would not yield up his victims this would be 
the end of her young life. To him she would, she 
could not return. Her honour — her word was en- 
gaged — here she would perish. 

The night was chill, she drew a mantle about her, 
and resting her head against the stone jamb of the 
window, looked out dreamily — and slipped into un- 
consciousness, to start to full life and activity of 
thought at a sound, the whistle of Roger or Amanieu 
in the guard-room rock. 


198 




These men were awake. Day was broken. In the 
east the sky was white. 

The church-bell began to toll for Mass. From her 
window she could see the village. The hills opposite 
were black, hard as cast-iron against the whitening 
sky. A halo already stood over the place where the 
sun would mount, and a cloud high up was shot with 
gold. Noe mi was shivering with cold. She rose and 
paced the chamber, but ever and anon returned to the 
window to look out. The white light was changing 
to amber, the sun was at hand. 

Eoger was carolling merrily, and smoke issued 
from the guard-chamber. The men were lighting a 
fire whereat to warm themselves, and perhaps do some 
cooking for their morning meal. In the cold meadow 
by the water-side, where lay a whiteness like a snow, a 
peasant was visible, turning the glebe with his plough 
fastened to the horns of a pair of oxen. 

She paced her chamber faster. She could not 
overcome the shivering that pervaded her. The cold 
had entered the marrow of her bones, and with it her 
heart turned sick. Where was Jean? Was he in the 
oubliette ? Had he been cast down on the body of 
his dying father ? 

Suddenly Noe mi stood still. Painted on the rock 
opposite the window was a saffron spot of light. The 
sun was risen. 

“ It is all over ! ” she said, and went to the door. 


THE RING. 


199 


There she uttered a cry — a cry of joy and release. 

Along the surface of the rock ran Jean towards 
her. He leaped on the threshold, and she caught and 
drew him in with both hands. 

The chill had gone from her. A rush of glowing 
life swept through her arteries and suffused her cheeks. 

“ Saved ! ” she gasped. “ Oh, Jean, is it well ? ” 

“ I am but just in time ! ” he answered. “ All is 
well. I came on — my father is behind, too tired to 
proceed at my pace. Oh, Noemi, Noemi ” 

They held hands, they could neither speak more 
words. Her eyes filled with tears, and then she 
sobbed. 

Jean was moved. “ Noemi,” he said, “ I shall 
never, never forget what you have done for us.” 

The girl speedily recovered herself. 

“ I must back to Domme,” she said. “ My task 
is done. You did not say that I had surrendered 
myself ? ” 

“No. I let Le Gros Guillem think that we had 
captured you. But it is with me as with you. I 
must be back to my father. There is a fellow come 
with me — called Heliot, and with my father is Peyrot 
le Fort.” 

“ The worst — the most treacherous ruffians there 
are ! ” 

“ They can do no hurt. At all events, till you are 
restored.” 


200 


NO^:MI. 


“ From that moment their hands are free.” 

Jean became grave for a moment. But his was an 
honest nature, not prone to mistrust, even in the 
midst of the lawlessness and falsehood of the times. 

“ Ah, bah ! ” said he. “ I can defend myself ! ” 

“Then let us start immediately,” said Noemi. 
“ I would that you had not to come back with me. 
I would your father had not been left with Peyrot le 
Fort.” 

Jean went into his father’s castle. He ordered 
two men-at-arms to attend him. Koger and Ama- 
nieu were as well to accompany the Captain’s daugh- 
ter. 

In less than an hour all were ready to start. A 
breakfast was hastily snatched, and Jean’s horse, as 
well as that of the routier^ was given water and 
corn. 

The band of men that left Ste. Soure consisted 
now of Jean del’ Peyra, with his two men mounted, 
also of ISTo^mi, attended by three of her father’s roiit- 
iers. The men whom Jean had taken with him as 
attendants were not accustomed to riding ; they could 
handle a pike, hut had not been called to service on 
horseback, and this became speedily evident, for on 
descending a hill which was rough with chalk nodules 
and flints, one of them let his horse fall, and himself 
rolled some way down. The beast was injured and 
the man bruised. To Jean’s annoyance he was not 


THE RING. 


201 


only detained, but obliged to leave the fellow behind. 
He was engaged for some minutes examining the 
horse’s knees and satisfying himself that the brute 
was not in a condition to go further. 

When he rejoined Noemi she said to him in a low 
tone — 

“ Let the men ride on ; I have a word to say to 
you.” 

Jean slackened pace and waited till a sufficient 
distance separated them from their attendants. Then 
she said : “ Treachery is intended. Heliot has been 

working Amanieu and Roger. Amanieu says he will 
do nothing ; observe him now. He has thrust his 
hands into his belt ; that means that he will neither 
serve Le Gros Guillem nor Del’ Peyra, but let the 
others do as they list. As for Roger, he has pre- 
tended to agree, and he has cautioned me. He does 
not know particulars. Heliot would not trust him — 
he only sounded Roger.” 

“ The fellow shall at once be disarmed,” said Jean, 
and rode- forward. The routier was summoned to de- 
liver up his sword, and seeing that he could obtain no 
assistance from his former comrades, sullenly surren- 
dered. He was then allowed to ride on with the rest, 
but with his hands bound. 

In the meanwhile the other routier had been spend- 
ing the remainder of the night by the charcoal- 
burner’s pile. He found the peasant churlish and in- 


202 


NO]&MI. 


disposed for conversation, wary, and watchful of all 
his movements. Now and again, when the collier was 
engaged on his heap, Peyrot stole into the hut to look 
at the sleeping Seigneur, but immediately was fol- 
lowed by the burner with his pronged fork. 

“ Why do you always run after me ? ” he asked 
churlishly. 

“ Because I know that such as you purpose no 
good.” 

In the morning the old Seigneur awoke, and 
came forth. He said nothing, but as he looked at the 
collier, who was eating brown bread, the man con- 
cluded he was hungry, and readily shared his break- 
fast with him, but absolutely refused to break bread 
with the rover. Peyrot was hungry, and irritated be- 
cause he was not given the opportunity of executing 
his intention. He would have attacked the collier 
hut that he feared him ; the man was tall, muscular, 
and on the alert. His black face disguised his feel- 
ings, but his eyes flashed with a saturnine light at 
every suspicious movement of the man-at-arms. 

“ They come ! they come ! ” shouted the charcoal- 
burner, starting forward. 

“ They come ! ” echoed Peyrot, and at once he had 
his sword out, and had struck at Ogier from behind. 
The blow would have been fatal had not the old man 
worn Le Gros Guillem’s jerkin lined with ring mail. 
In a moment Peyrot was caught by the fork of the 


THE RING. 


203 


collier, round the throat, under chin and ears, was 
flung backwards and pinned to the ground. 

“ Haro ! help all ! I have the wolf ! ” yelled the 
man, and from out of the scrub poured the peasants 
returning from the chase. 

They had been so far successful that they had 
killed the male wolf and the cubs, but the dam had 
escaped them. They were exultant, excited by the 
hunt ; they carried the beasts they had killed slung 
across poles. 

“ See here ! ” cried the collier. “ Here is the worst 
wolf of all — he tried to murder the Sieur del’ 
Peyra ! ” 

“ We will drive him into your charcoal and burn 
him ! ” cried a peasant. 

“ That will spoil my charcoal. He is not worth 
it,” answered the collier. 

“ We will hack him to pieces ! ” “We will cudgel 
out his brains!” “We will flay him alive!” As 
many voices, so many opinions. 

At the same time arrived the party from Le 
Peuch. 

“Here are others! See! Another red cross! 
Burn — hang— brain them both ! Here are other two ! 
Kill them all— all ! ” 

The peasants seethed and swirled round Heliot, 
whose hands were bound, and about Amanieu and 
Roger. 


14 


204 


NO]&ML 


“ My friends,” said Jean del’ Peyra, “you are mis- 
taken. This is my prisoner. The others are my very 
good friends.” 

“ You would not let us kill them before, and now 
this fellow tried to murder your father. He struck 
at him from behind like a coward.” 

“ If he has done that,” said Jean, “ his life is for- 
feit. Who says he did that ? ” 

“ 1 do,” answered the collier. “ I saw him. He 
has been looking out for an opportunity all morning. 
I saved the Seigneur.” 

“ Very well,” said Jean. “ Then I speak no word 
in his behalf. Let him be taken to the next tree and 
hanged.” 

“ Hang him ! hang him ! who has a rope ? That 
which fastens the old wolf will do ! No — it is too 
short, make a band of hazel.” 

Then a voice shouted : “ There is before you Le 
Gros Guillem’s daughter. Why should we kill the 
wolf’s cubs and let run Guillem’s whelps ? ” 

“ Kill her ! kill the whelp ! ” yelled the men, and 
crowded round Noemi. 

“ She is a Tarde ! Hands otf ! ” called another. 
“ Take the men, do not touch a woman ! ” 

Then the crowd precipitated itself on the bound 
routier ; Amanieu and Roger drew their swords and 
kept the peasants at bay. 

“ She is a cub of Gros Guillem, I swear it ! ” called 


THE RINH. 


205 

a man. “ Kill the whole breed, or she will mother 
loups-garoug (Were- wolves.) 

“ Messire Jean! we have no cause against you,” 
said an immense man, a farmer, coming up and laying 
hold of J can’s horse’s bridle. “ But we will not spare 
any of that Domme race. They are accursed — have 
they not been excommunicated by the Pope — by the 
Bishop? We do not spare a wolf-cub however pite- 
ously it whine, however young it be, to whatever sex it 
may belong; and if this be a cub of the were- wolf 
Guillem, shall we be squeamish? Swear to us she is 
not of the race, and she shall pass untouched. If not, 
we will kill her.” 

Densely packed round him, brandishing forks and 
clubs and axes were the men, rendered savage by op- 
pression, and now reckless by success. None were the 
retainers of thei Del’ Peyras. Jean knew not to what 
master they belonged. The men roared — 

“ Swear she is not Guillem’s daughter, or we will 
kill her ! ” 

The moment was one of supreme danger. 

“ Koemi ! ” said he hastily. “ Hold out thy hand ! ” 

She obeyed, extending her fingers straight before 
her. 

“ Swear ! swear ! ” yelled the men. 

Then Jean plucked open his purse, drew out the 
ring she had sent by him to her father, and said, as 
he held it aloft — 


206 


NOfiMI. 


“ See all ; I put it on her finger. Do you want to 
know who she is ? Know all that she is the betrothed 
of Jean del’ Peyra, son of the Sieur del Peuch de Ste. 
Soure.” 

A shriek — a shriek of horror and agony. 

The attention of those crowding in on Koemi and 
Jean was diverted. 

Some men had taken up Peyrot le Fort, and had 
rammed him with their pitchforks into the fuming 
pyre of the charcoal-burner, then had massed on sods 
and clay, and had heat it down over him with their 
spades. 


Ride ! away ! ride ! ” shouted J ean. 


CHAPTER XXL 


A DISAPPEARAifCE. 

The old Seigneur del’ Peyra was not exactly a 
changed man since his descent into and release from 
the oubliette ; he was rather the man he had been of 
old with his dullness, inertness intensified. He spoke 
very little, never referred to his adventures — it might 
almost be thought that he had forgotten them, but 
that on the smallest allusion to Le Gros Guillem his 
eye would fire, all the muscles of his face quiver, and 
he would abruptly leave the society of such as spoke 
of the man who had so ill-treated him. 

Except for the sudden agitations into which he 
was thrown by such allusions, he was almost torpid. 
He took no interest in his land, in his people, in his 
castle. He sat much on a stone in the sun when the 
sun shone, looking at the ground before him. When 
the cold and rainy weather set in, then he sat in the 
fire-corner with his eyes riveted on the flames. One 
thing he could not endure, and that was darkness. 

The coming on of night filled him with unrest. He 
207 


208 




could not abide in a room where did not burn a light. 
He would start from sleep during the night several 
times to make sure that the lamp was still burning. 

At first Jean had spoken to his father relative to 
the incidents of his capture, and had asked him par- 
ticulars about his treatment, but desisted from doing 
so as he saw how profoundly it affected the old man, 
and how slow he was of recovering his equanimity after 
such an attempt to extract his recollections from 
him. Nor could he consult him about the affairs of 
the Seigneurie. The old man seemed incapable of 
fixing his mind on any such matters. Not that his 
brain had ceased to act, but that it was preoccupied 
with one absorbing idea, from which it resented di- 
version. 

Jean made an attempt to sound his father’s 
thoughts, but in vain, and he satisfied himself that 
the only course open to him was to leave the old man 
alone, and to trust to the restorative forces of Nature 
to recover him.. He had received a shock which had 
shaken his powers but had not destroyed them. If 
left alone he would in time be himself again. 

There was much to occupy the mind and take up 
the time of J ean del’ Peyra. 

The winter had set in. The leaves had been shed 
from the trees. There had set in a week of rain, and 
the river Vezere had swelled to a fiood red-brown in 
colour, sweeping away the soil rich in phosphates that 


A DISAPPEARANCE. 


209 


overlay the chalk, and which alone sustained vegeta- 
tion. If the Vezere were in flood, so also was the 
Dordogne, and both rivers being impassable, the little 
Seigneurie of Le Peuch Ste. Stoure was safe. It 
was divided from its foe at Domme by these swollen 
dykes. 

But floods would subside in time, the weather 
would clear, and although it was not probable that 
Le Gros Guillem would attempt reprisals during the 
winter, yet it would be injudicious not to maintain 
watch and be prepared against an attack. 

The peasant, impulsive and inconsiderate, was not 
to be trusted without direction, and required to be 
watched so as to be kept to the ungrateful task of 
semi-military service. He was easily stirred to acts of 
furious violence, and as easily allowed himself to lapse 
into blind security. Having taken and destroyed 
PEglise and beaten back the routiers on the Beune, 
the peasants considered that they had done all that 
could be required of them ; they hastily recon- 
verted their swords into the ploughshares that they 
had been, and dismounted their spears to employ 
them for their proper use as pruning-hooks. At the 
same time that they thus turned their implements of 
husbandry to peaceful ends, so did they dismantle 
themselves of all military ambition, and revert to the 
condition of the boor, whose thoughts are in the soil 
he turns and returns, whose produce he reaps and 


210 


NOEMI. 


mows. The peasant mind is not flexible, and it is 
very limited in its range. It can think of but one 
thing at a time, and it is wholly void of that nimhle- 
ness which is acquired by association with men of 
many avocations and of intellectual culture. For a 
moment, stirred by intolerable wrongs, his passions 
had flared into an all-consuming flame. Now he was 
again the plodding ploughman, happy to handle the 
muckfork and the goad. 

Jean found it impossible to rouse the men to 
understand the necessity of being ever on the alert 
against the foe. Gros Guillem, said they, had pil- 
laged Ste. Soure; he had done his worst; now he 
would go and plunder elsewhere. He had tried con- 
clusions with them and had been worsted ; in future 
he would test his strength against weaker men. 
Allans! we have had enough of fighting — there is 
much to be done^on the farm. Jean del’ Peyra fore- 
saw danger, and would not relax his efforts to be pre- 
pared to meet it. He established sentinels to keep 
watch night and day, and he marshajled the peasants 
and drilled them. They grumbled, and endeavoured 
to shirk, and he had hard matter to enforce dis- 
cipline. He received tidings from Domme, and ascer- 
tained that the feet of the Captain were completely 
restored ; and that he was about the town and citadel 
as usual. 

He had matter to occupy him and divert his atten- 


A DISAPPEARANCE. 


211 


tion from Le Peuch. For some time the great stress 
of war between the French and the English had been 
in the north ; there the Maid of Orleans had led to 
victory, and there she had been basely deserted and 
allowed to fall into the hands of the English. No 
sooner, however, had these latter burnt “the sor- 
ceress ” than they turned their attention to Ouyenne. 
There matters had not been favourable to the three 
Leopards. Bergerac, on the Dordogne, an important 
mercantile centre devoted to the French cause, and 
which had been long held by the English, had been 
freed, and had the Lilies waving from its citadel. 
Then suddenly the English forces from Bordeaux 
had appeared under the walls, and the garrison, un- 
able to defend itself unassisted, had fled, and once 
more the Lilies were thrown down and the Leopards 
unfurled. But recently, owing to some outrage com- 
mitted in the town by some of the soldiers of the cas- 
tle, the whole of the inhabitants had risen in a mass, 
had surprised the garrison, and had butchered them 
to a man. Bergerac was again French. For the last 
time it had borne the English yoke. During three 
hundred years, with the exception of a few intervals, 
it had been under English dominion (1150-1450), 
many a time had French and English fought under 
its walls for the possession of such a strong point, 
which by its position commanded the course of the 
Dordogne. Tradition even says that in one day the 


212 




town passed thrice into English and thrice into French 
hands. 

The recovery of Bergerac by the Count of Pen- 
thi^vre, the Lieutenant of the King of France in 
Guyenne, and the treatment of the garrison by the 
citizens, alarmed Le Gros Guillem. He was keenly 
alive to the disaffection of the town of Domme. He 
was in a less satisfactory position than the comman- 
dant of Bergerac. For this latter place was sur- 
rounded by strongholds of barons attached to the 
English cause, not on principle, but for their own 
interest ; the nearest town up the river, Le Linde, 
was a hastide in English hands. The heights bristled 
with castles, all held by men strongly opposed to the 
crown of France, all ready to harass in every way the 
citizens who had dared to free themselves. The situ- 
ation at Domme was other. Nearly in face of it was 
a town almost as important in population, quite as 
securely defended by Nature, and dominated by a cas- 
tle of exceptional inexpugnability. The Governor of 
this place was the brother of the Bishop of Sarlat, 
and could not be bribed to betray his charge. From 
his eyrie every movement of Guillem was watched. La 
Koque was a stronghold with the whole county of Sarlat 
at its back, and thence it could be filled with men un- 
seen from Domme, to organise a sudden attack on the 
enemy’s position. That alone might be repelled, but 
that aided by treachery within the walls might succeed. 


A DISAPPEARANCE. 


213 


Consequently Guillem was engaged in filling his 
ranks and accumulating material of war. Desire as 
he might, and did, to chastise those at Ste. Soure, he 
could not do so at the moment. 

Never did he ride by La Roque without casting on 
it a covetous gaze. It was the key to the whole of the 
Black Perigord — the county of Sarlat. 

Jean deP Peyra’s mind reverted often to Noemi. 
He had not seen her since that incident of the ring. 
Then, attended by Amanieu and Roger, she had rid- 
den away at full gallop and had escaped. At the 
same time he had succeeded in cutting the bands that 
held the arms of Heliot, and had suffered him to ride 
away as well. Jean was naturally adverse to deeds 
of bloodshed ; and though the fellow justly merited 
death, he had no desire that the peasantry should con- 
stitute themselves at once accusers, judges, and exe- 
cutioners. Jean thought repeatedly of that strange 
scene — his engagement by ring to Noemi, forced on 
him to save her from the violence of the angry peas- 
ants — the only means available to him at the moment 
for evading the question as to her parentage. 

But though he had quickly proclaimed her to be 
his affianced bride, he did not seriously purpose to 
make her his. Though he loved her, though his 
heart eagerly recognised her generosity of feeling, 
the real goodness that was in her, he could not for- 
get to what stock she belonged. It would not be pos- 


214 


NO^:MI. 


sible for him to consider her as one who would be 
his — when he was at deadly enmity with the father. 
It would not be decent, natural, to take to his side 
the child of the ruffian who had treated his own 
father in a manner of refined barbarity. It was 
known throughout the country what Guillem had 
(ione — and the whole country would point the finger 
of scorn at him if he so condoned the outrage as to 
marry the daughter of the perpetrator of it. But, 
more than that, he was certain to be engaged in 
hand-to-hand fight with Guillem. He did not for 
a moment doubt that this man would seize the first 
opportunity of attacking and probably of overwhelm- 
ing him with numbers. When next they met the 
meeting would be final, and fatal to one or the other. 
Either he or Le Gros Guillem would issue from the 
struggle with his hands wet with the blood of the 
other. It mattered not which turn matters took, 
what the result was — either precluded union with 
Noemi. 

He would have liked to have seen her, to have 
parted from her with words of gratitude for what she 
had done for him and his father. He would have 
liked to come to an understanding with her. She 
was not a child, surely she did not hold those words 
spoken by him, that ring put on her finger, as bind- 
ing them together ? 

He was thinking over this, scheming how he could 


A DISAPPEARANCE. 


215 

meet her, when one of his men came to him and 
said — 

“ Monsieur Jean, have you seen your father?” 

“ When ? Just now ? ” 

“ Yes,” said the man, “ recently.” 

“ No, Antoine, not for several hours.” 

“Nor has anyone else.” 

“ Not seen my father ? ” 

“No, Monsieur Jean, we have been looking for 
him in every direction, and cannot find him.” 

“ He is in the castle.” 

“No, Monsieur Jean, there he is not.” 

“ He is in the field.” 

“No, Monsieur Jean, he is nowhere.” 

“ That is not possible.” 

“ He is nowhere that we can find, and no one has 
seen him leave — no one knows whether he has been 
carried off again, and if so, how, when, or by whom ? ” 
It was so — Ogier del’ Peyra had vanished, not 
leaving a trace behind him. 


CHAPTEE XXIL 


THE CASTELLAN. 

Le GtROS Guillem was pacing the stone-vaulted 
hall of the Castle of Domme. It was a hall that ran the 
whole depth of the castle, from one face to the other, 
and was lighted solely by large windows to the north, 
commanding the valley of the Dordogne. The room 
w^as vaulted, not ribbed ; cradled with w^hite stone, 
the walls were of stone, and the hall was paved with 
stone — all of one whiteness. No tapestry covered the 
naked sides, nor carpets clothed the floors, only some 
panelling of oak to man’s height took off some of the 
chill of the walls, and straw was littered on the floor. 
Of ornament there was none in the hall, unless weap- 
ons and defensive armour might be so regarded. 
Even antlers and boars’ heads were absent. The oc- 
cupants of the castle had other amusements than the 
chase. 

“ I must have thirty men more,” said the Captain. 
“ Let Heliot ride into the Bretenoux country ; he will 

get them there ; and let that sulky Amanieu, who is 
216 


THE CASTELLAN. 


217 


neither one of us nor against us, go to Graraat, on 
the bald and barren Causse, where nothing grows save 
lank and hungry men, there is always a supply of 
daredevils to be had for the asking. Offer what you 
will — we must make an attempt on Bergerac — and 
have the looting of its fat merchants’ houses. We 
will make a raid into Sarlat and put the oily canons 
into the olive-press. There is plenty^ to be had for 
the taking. I want men. I must have more men. I 
dare not leave Domme without a thumb on it to hold 
it down ; and there is that accursed eye of La Koque 
watching unwinkingly. Fine times are coming. I 
hear that the English are sending an army under the 
great Talbot. Let us do something — pick over the 
vineyard before he comes or the Englishmen will 
have the biggest bunches.” 

One of the attendants came up to the Captain and 
informed him that there was an old man desired to 
speak with him. 

“ What does he want ? Where does he come from ? 
I want no old men. The young are those who can 
serve me. I have not here an almshouse for bedemen, 
but a training school for soldiers.” 

“ He will not say what he wants— except only that 
he comes on matters of extreme importance.” 

“ Importance ! importance ! ” repeated Le Gros 
Guillem irritably. “Importance to him and not to 
me. What is he ? a farmer ? Some of my boys have 


218 


NOfeMI. 


lifted an ox or carried off a daughter. I will not see 
him.” 

“ Captain, he comes from La Eoque.” 

“Then I will have nothing to do with him. I 
have no dealings with the peojffe of La Eoque. Eun 
your pikes into his calves and make him skip down 
the hill.” 

The attendant retired but returned shortly with a 
slip of paper, which he put into the Captain’s hand. 
Guillem would have thrust it aside. “A scribbling 
petitioner — worst of all ! Does he look as if he had 
money ? Can he be made to pay ? If so we will put 
him in the mortar and pound him.” 

With careless indifference Guillem opened the 
paper and read the lines — 

Messire le Gros, — If you want a lodging in La 
Eoque now is your opportunity. 

From one who has charge of the keys. 

“ Eh ! eh ! ” exclaimed the Captain, flushing over 
his bald head, and his long Angers crushed the paper 
in excitement. “ What ! a chance of that ? Show 
him in — and you, guard, stand at a distance at the 
door.” 

In another moment an old man with short-cut 
grey hair was introduced. He walked with the aid of 
a stick, and kept his eyes on the ground. He was 


THE CASTELLAN. 


219 


habited in a shabby dark suit, out at elbows, some- 
what clerical in cut, and he was shaved like a priest. 
His face was singularly mottled, in places yellow with 
sunburn, elsewhere white. He had bushy eyebrows 
that contrasted singularly with his close-clipped head 
and his smooth jaws. 

“ So ! ” said Guillem, striding up to him, “ you 
have the keys — and who are you ? ” 

“ Messire Captain, I am your very humble servant.” 
“ To the point ! What are you at La Roque, and 
what do you want with me ? ” 

“ Messire, I am now caretaker of the fortress in 
the cliff. I hold the keys and am responsible for its 
custody.” 

“ And what brings you here ? ” 

“ Messire, I am willing to let you in.” 

“ Ah ! On what terms ? ” 

“ Messire — I trust to your generosity.” 

“ That is not a usual mode of doing business. 
Why do you come to me ? Why betray your trust ? 
There is a reason — is it money? I will pay. What 
do you demand ? ” 

“ I ask no money.” 

“ Then in Heaven’s name what do you want ? ” 

“ Revenge ! ” answered the old man, and bowed 
his head lower over his staff. 

“ Revenge ! Hah ! I can understand that. Re- 
venge on someone in La Roque ? ” 

15 


220 


noI:mi. 


“ On someone who is not there now, but who will 
be there on the night that I admit you.” 

“ And you ask me to revenge your wrong.” 

“ I will do that for myself, Messire — only I can do 
nothing now. I am prepared to admit you within 
the walls of the town. I can do better than that — I 
will^give you access to the castle — the town without 
the castle is nothing. The castle in itself is nothing. 
But the castle commands the town.” 

“ Hah ! let us in, within the walls of La Eoque, 
and we will soon have the castle.” 

“You. think that, Messire? You are mistaken. 
The castle is victualled for three months. There is a 
well in it that never runs dry. There is a garrison 
under the Sieur Fran9ois de Bonaldi, brother of the 
Bishop. If you took the town with my help, it would 
be cracking the nut and not getting the kernel. 
From the castle they could rain down rocks on 
you, and if you attempted to hold the town they 
would dislodge you, though it might ruin the houses. 
Ho — the town without the castle is an eyeball with- 
out the iris. Take the castle and the town is 
yours.” 

“ You may be right,” said Le Gros Guillem, after 
a pause. 

“I am positive I am right,” said the old man, 
looking up and dropping his eyes again. 

“ What, then, do you propose ? ” 


THE CASTELLAN. 


221 

“ On a night — let us say to-morrow before mid- 
night, I will admit you and five men ” 

“ Why not more ? ” 

“ Harken, Messire, I have thought the plan out.” 

“ Go on ! — I am impatient to hear.” 

“ It is you, Messire le Gros, who have interrupted 
me.” 

“ Go on with your plan ! If I do not approve, I 
will none of it. I am not going to run into a trap.” 

“ A trap ! Oh, Messire, how can you think of 
that ? ” 

“ Tell me your plan at once.” 

“ It is this, Messire. I will let you in through the 
postern gate on the upper — the Vitrac — Sarlat Eoad, 
you and five men — no more. As many as you will 
need can be admitted later ; they shall remain without 
till the castle is in your hands, and then two of your 
men who will tarry by the gate will unbar to them and 
let them all enter. But consider, Messire, it will not do 
to allow access to more than five at the outset — there 
are sentinels on the walls. I have no understanding 
with them, and they might see and give the alarm. If 
the alarm were given before you had obtained posses- 
sion of the castle, then the whole expedition would be 
in vain. If you hold the castle you have the heart of 
La Eoque Gageac in your hands.” 

“ And you will admit us into the fortress ? ” 

“ I will admit you and three men.” 


222 


NOEMI. 


“ It is not enough.” 

“ It suffices. There are but six men in the castle 
— and no guard is kept at night, for none is needed, as 
you will see when you get there. That on the town 
walls suffices ; one of these men is in agreement with 
me. Him you must pay, but not me. I shall he well 
indemnified if I get my revenge.” 

“ So then — you will first open the gate to me and 
five men. Then, two are to be left in charge of the 
gate, I and three others are next to be given ad- 
mittance to the castle, where we are to overpower the 
garrison. You say there are but six men. That is 
very few.” 

“ Messire, the Bishop says he can afford no more, 
and his brother, the Sieur rran9ois, has written to urge 
him to supply him with more, but he says that his 
treasury is exhausted and his land impoverished, and 
that there are no more men to be got. Besides, what 
they reckon on is for the whole garrison of the town 
to fly to the castle should the walls of the town fall 
into the enemy’s power. It has never entered into 
their heads that the citadel should be first grasped, 
and the citadel commands all — it commands the town, 
it commands the road to Sarlat, it commands the 
whole country.” 

“ And the Bishop says there is nothing to be got — 
no money ? ” 

“ So he says ; that is the reason he gives. He told 


THE CASTELLAN. 


223 


the Sieur rran9ois to do his best with the handful he 
has ; he was unable to assist further.” 

“We will speedily prove if his words he true. We 
shall soon make him heat his- head to think that he 
was so parsimonious that he had scruples about melt- 
ing up his church plate. That only is an exhausted 
land which yields naught when it has passed through 
my sieve.” Guillem halted in his walk, laid one hand 
on the shoulder of the old man, and said, in a tone in 
which was some suspicion, “ So you will turn traitor, 
betray a trust for nothing ! ” 

“ Pardon, Messire ; I said that I did it to satisfy 
my revenge.” 

“ By the Holy Caul of Cahors ! ” * laughed Le Gros 
Guillem, “ revenge is sweet, especially to the old. 
When the kisses of women and the clink of spurs 
and the fingering of gold no longer charm, revenge is 
still palatable. What makes you so lust for vengeance, 
old man ? ” 

“ Ah, Messire ! what do the small troubles of a 
nobody like me concern you ? ” 

Guillem let go his hold and recommenced his pac- 
ing : “ The Holy Caul to my aid ! but I, too, have my 


* La Sainte Coiffe — a caul in which it was fabled that the 
infant Christ was born— was one of the choice relics preserved 
at Cahors. It fell into the hands of the Huguenots at the 
memorable capture of Cahors by Henry of Navarre, but was 
recovered. It happily disappeared at the Revolution. 


224 


NOfeMI. 


grievance, and my mouth waters for the same dainty 
as does yours. Let me but be established at La Koque, 
and they may expect me at Le Peucb.” 

“ Who is at Le Peuch, Messire ? ” 

“ Old man, one who has injured my honour ; one 
to whom I will show no mercy if I but get him in my 
grip. From La Eo.que I can command all the Sarla- 
dais, and I can swoop down at my leisure on Le 
Peuch. I shall get gold at Sarlat and blood at Le 
Peuch. By Heaven, I do not know which will best 
please me ! ” 

“ You accept my offer, Messire le Gros? ” 

“ Aye — to-morrow, at an hour to midnight. Are 
you an ecclesiastic ? ” 

“ No, Messire.” 

“ You have a clerical aspect ; hut I suppose all who 
serve the Bishop assume something of that. Very 
well. I shall be there — I and my men. Will you eat? 
Will you drink ? ” 

“ Thank you, Messire. I have not come from far 
— only across the water. The ferryman put me over. 
I made some excuse that I had a married daughter to 
visit, and none suspect evil ; but I must make speed 
and return before mistrust breeds. Mistrust will spoil 
all, Messire.” 

“Very well. Go! So we meet to-morrow. If 
you fail — if you prove false, old man — terrible will be 
your lot.” 


THE CASTELLAN. 


225 


“ I shall not fail. Fear not. I shall not eat, I 
shall not sleep ; I shall count the hours till you come.” 

Le Gros Guillem mused a moment. Then he said : 
“ What shall be the sign by which you will know we 
are there — at the gate ? ” 

“ You will come,” answered the old man, “ to the 
little postern at the Sarlat gate. It lays on the right 
— twenty strides up the slope ; you pass by a vineyard 
to it. I will tarry there till I hear you scratch like a 
cat.” 

“ Very well — and the word ? ” 

“ The word — for a merry jest — as you said it, Le 
Peuch.” 

“ Le Peuch — so be it,” said the Captain. “ Fur- 
ther — the main body of men will be posted outside, and 
they are not to be admitted till the castle is ours. 
How shall I communicate with them ? ” 

“ Nothing is easier,” replied the castellan. “ When 
Messire is above, and has got the men of the garrison 
bound, let him ring the alarm-bell. It is in the tower 
of the castle gate, and at once ypur men below will 
admit their fellows, and the townsfolk will awake to 
discover themselves betrayed, and in the hands of the 
illustrious and very generous Captain Guillem.” 

“ It is good ! ” said the routier, “ You have thought 
this plan well out, old man.” 

“ Oh, I have thought it well out. I have been 
long about it.* I took much consideration before all 


226 


NO^lMI. 


was fitted together. So — there — all is agreed. I 
wish you well till we meet.” 

The castellan made for the door, but before he 
reached it, he rested on his staff, and burst into a 
convulsive fit of laughter. 

“What is that?” asked the Captain, coming 
towards him. “ What makes you laugh ? ” 

“ Excuse me, Messire. I am old, and my nerves 
are shaken. I have had much to agitate them — and 
these convulsive fits come on me — when I think I am 
on the eve of a great pleasure — and it will be a great 
pleasure,” he turned and bowed, and made a saluta- 
tion with his cap, and with extended hands — “ ah ! 
Messire a great pleasure, to open the gate, and let you 
in !” He bowed profoundly, and went out backwards 
laughing and saluting. 


CHAPTER XXIIL 


IIT THE HAIL. 

Le Gros Guillem was jubilant. He kept his 
secret. Not to one of his men — not even to his lieu- 
tenant did he confide his purpose of surprising the 
castle and town of La Roque Gageac, for he well knew 
that no secret is safe when once it has slipped over 
the lips. 

He was in excellent spirits, in buoyant, boisterous 
humour. He laughed and joked with his men, and 
Guillem was too grim a man to be often given to 
jest. He bade his men look to their arms, and he de- 
tailed those who were to follow him on an expedition. 
Whither he was going he did not say — but with him 
that was usual — he let no breath of rumour escape as 
to his destination whenever he made a raid, and on 
this account he was almost always successful ; he came 
down like a bolt out of the sky on some spot, totally 
unprepared to resist him, and none could betray his 
scheme, and prepare those fallen upon, for none knew 

his destination till he started. 

227 


228 




“ Heliot ! ” called Guillem, suddenly arresting him- 
self as he was drawing a long sword from the scab- 
bard to examine if it were free of rust. “ Did you 
observe that old man who was here last evening ? ” 

“ I saw him come in, Captain.” 

“ But — there is something in his face familiar to 
me — I fancy I have seen him before — and yet — I am 
not sure.” 

“ He said that he came from Gageac and had rela- 
tives in this town.” 

“ That may be it. To be sure — he told me, a mar- 
ried daughter — I have seen him here at some fair, 
may be. It will not out of my head, I have seen 
him — and cannot say where. He looks like a broken 
priest.” 

“ As he walked he was bowed, and I could not see 
his face. Captain,” answered Heliot. 

“ It matters not. Is there any moon to-night, 
Heliot?” 

“ There is a new moon. Captain ; you can see her 
in the sky, she does not set till early morning, just 
before daybreak. But we shall see little of her to- 
night ; there are thick clouds coming up against the 
wind — piled up as though full of thunder.” 

“ So much the better. Heliot, I will tell you now 
what is to be done — we must cross the Dordogne.” 
More than that he would not say. 

The city of Sarlat lies at a distance of several 


IN THE HAIL. 


229 


miles from the river, and is accessible by two valleys, 
one of which opens on to the Dordogne under the 
rock of Vitrac, a sheer limestone cliff, the top of 
which is occupied by a village and castle, the foot 
bathed by the river, and the defile up which the road 
runs commanded not only by the castle of Vitrac, but 
by another, a tower on the further side, and these two 
were designed to completely bar the way to the town. 
The other way is more tortuous, and was also defended 
both by the great castle and rock of Beynac and also 
by a low hill in the midst of the open valley that was 
likewise fortified. The situation may be best under- 
stood if we imagine a great triangular plateau with 
Sarlat at the apex and the Dordogne flowing at the 
base ; midway on that base stands La Koque. 

With the river thus watched and every road guarded 
jealously, it was important for Le Gros Guillem to 
cross in the dark, unperceived, lest a warning should 
be sent to La Koque, and the garrison be set on the 
alert so that the castellan would be unable to fulfil 
his engagement. 

As the evening closed in the clouds that had been 
noticed by Heliot covered the whole heavens. There 
was no wind below ; at the same time one must have 
been blowing aloft, for the vapours parted and dis- 
closed the moon and then drifted over its face again, 
and through them it peered dimly, like an eye with 
cataract over it, or else became totally obscured. 


230 


NOfiMl. 


The men detailed for the expedition were assem- 
bled in the courtyard of the castle. They were not 
mounted — horses were unnecessary and inconvenient. 
The tramp might be heard and cause alarm. The 
routiers remained in their ranks motionless till the 
word was given, and then silently they defiled out of 
the castle, through the street of Domme, and the 
town portcullis was raised to allow them to pass forth. 

Le Gros Guillem had boats on the river at his 
command. And the passage of the Dordogne was 
effected in the darkness successfully without attention 
being attracted on the opposite bank. The compan- 
ions issued from the boats and drew up on the bank 
till the Captain gave the command to march, when 
they proceeded down the right bank of the river 
without speaking and without making any noise. 
Owing to the rainfall the way was muddy and the 
mud prevented their tramp from being audible. 
Shortly before the hour named by the castellan the 
entire party was near the Sarlat gate, concealed be- 
hind vineyard walls and bushes. 

The town that was menaced seemed to be buried 
in slumber and security. The only light discernible 
was the faint glow through the church window of S. 
Donat, where the sanctuary lamp burned. There was 
not even a light in the castle — which in the general 
darkness was indiscernible — only the mighty cliff into 
which it was built stood high overhead like a gigantic 


IN THE HAIL. 


231 


wave ready to fall and bury everything beneath it. 
The Captain picked out the men he had fixed on to 
accompany him and gave his instructions to the 
others in a whisper. As soon as the alarm-bell 
sounded in the castle they were to draw rapidly to the 
gate. Their comrades within would open, “ and,” 
said Guillem, “ the town is yours — to do as you please 
therein.” Then he advanced cautiously with his five 
men to the postern at the side and not to the main 
gate. This postern was small, it would admit but one 
man at a time. 

On reaching it Guillem scratched with the point 
of his sword, and the signal was answered at once — 
cautiously the door was unbarred and unlocked and 
the castellan appeared in it. The clouds had mo- 
mentarily parted and the new moon gleamed forth 
and was reflected by the river. Guillem could per- 
ceive that this was the same man who had visited him 
at Domme. 

“The word?” 

“ Le Peuch.” 

“It is well, Le Peuch. How many?” he asked 
under his breath. 

“ Myself and five,” answered Guillem. 

“ It is well — let two men remain here. The others 
follow me.” He led the way up a steep stair of stone 
steps, past houses built into the rock, past the little 
church, one wall of which was the rock itself, and the 


232 


no^:ml 


roadway lay almost level with the eave. There was a 
clock in the tower, it throbbed like the pulse of a liv- 
ing being — the pulse of the whole town, but it beat 
evenly, as if the town was without fear. 

The road lay beneath some houses ; for, in order 
to penetrate from one portion of the town to another, 
to reach from one ledge of rock with the buildings 
occupying it where every foot of ground was precious, 
the path was conducted beneath chambers, in which, 
overhead, the citizens were peacefully sleeping, unsus- 
picious of what was proceeding below. 

In another moment the platform had been reached 
below the sheer cliff that rose without so much as a 
shelf on which a shrub could root itself, even of a 
cranny in which a pink or harebell might cling. 

All was now so dark that Guillem could not see 
his guide or his men. 

Not a sound had been heard in the town — and 
here there was nothing audible save a cat that was 
mewing. It had been shut out of a house and feared 
that a storm was coming on. The time was winter, 
the little creature was cold, and it craved for the 
warmth and the dryness of the kitchen hearth. The 
foolish cat came up to Le Gros Guillem and rubbed 
herself against his legs and pleaded for attention. Ir- 
ritated at her persistence and cries, the Captain dealt 
her a kick which sent her flying and squealing. Then 
he regretted that he had done this, lest her shrill cry 


IN THE HAIL. 


233 


should reach the mistress and induce her to open the 
door and show a light. 

But no token followed and showed that the cat 
had been heard. Again the creature came near, mew- 
ing. The darkness was so dense that nothing could 
be seen, not even the rock in front, only the buildings 
round loomed black against the sky that was but a 
shade lighter than the rpck. 

Then hail rushed down, hissing, leaping, and with 
the hail a flash of lightning revealing the blank wall 
of rock in front and the floor over which the hail- 
stones ran and spun. 

“ Where is the stair?” asked Le Gros Guillem of 
the castellan, who kept at his side. 

“ Stair — what stair ? ” 

“The way by which we are to mount into the 
castle ? ” 

The old man chuckled. 

“Wait a while,” said he in a whisper. “When 
next the lightning flashes look ahead of you — a little 
to the right, and you will see a cobweb path up the 
face of the rock.” 

“Lead us to the path — cobweb or not we will 
mount it. We are accustomed to that, and this is 
tedious — tarrying here. Curse that cat ! Here she is 
again ! ” 

“Ah, Messire — you do not comprehend. Have 
you never been in La Roque ? ” 


234 


NO^:MI. 


“I? Never! Do you suppose they would suffer 
me within the walls ? ” 

“ Then, Messire, you cannot understand how it is 
that of the garrison none are awake, how it comes that 
there is no need for watchfulness. Wait a while, the 
lightning — there — did you see ? ” 

The old man pointed in the direction of the stair. 
The construction of this path of ascent has been al- 
ready described. It consisted of a ladder of pegs* 
driven into the rock, each peg sustained by a wedge 
underneath it. Nothing was easier than by a blow to 
loosen the wedge and to throw the steps down, and 
when down no passage could be effected to or from 
the castle along the face of the rock. 

“ Did you observe ? ” asked the old man. 

“ I observed nothing save a stair.” 

“ Look at the base of the stair. Ah ! the hail ! 
how it whitens the ground, how it lights up the land- 
scape. One can see a little now, and presently, if you 
will have patience, Messire, I will explain it all.” 

“ I want no explanation, I want to mount the stair 
and enter the castle.” 

“ You cannot mount the stair. It is not possible. 
There — another flash — now do you see? All the 
lower portion is removed, so that, till put together 
again in the morning, no one can ascend. Moreover, 
there aloft is a landing place, and between that land- 
ing place and the gate there is a gap — and over that 


IN THE HAIL. 


235 


a draw-plank is lowered. Now, at night, all the low- 
est rungs of the stair are taken away and above the 
plank is lifted. There is no possibility of anyone 
mounting by that means.” 

“ Then, in the devil’s name, why have you brought 
us here? I tell you, old man, I will drive my poi- 
gnard down your throat if you have dared to deceive 
me.” 

“ I deceive you ! Oh, Messire ! There is a second 
way of entering the castle.” 

“And that is ?” 

“ See ! ” 

Again the lightning flickered, and now the clouds 
parting allowed the moon to flash over the whitened 
earth and show the great wall of chalk rock in front 
mounting into the sky and white as the ghostly clouds 
touched by moonlight that moved above it. The free- 
booter saw something hanging down the face of the 
cliff. It was a rope, and at the end was a bar of wood 
some two feet long which it held in a horizontal posi- 
tion by a knot in the middle. 

“ My good friend, whom you will have to reward, 
is above at the windlass. You can mount, Messire. 
I have but to shake the cord and put my Angers into 
my mouth and hoot as an owl and he will begin to 
wind up. It is by this means that provisions are car- 
ried up, and by this one can go up or down when the 
passage of the stair is cut off. Will you please to 
16 


236 


no]6mi. 


mount first — or shall I, most honoured Captain?” 
The castellan took off his hat and bowed. 

Le Gros Guillem looked up a sheer height of a 
hundred feet ; in the uncertain light it appeared as 
though this cord was let down out of the sky. He 
was a man who rarely knew fear — in the heat of con- 
fiict he never knew it at all. He was dauntless in 
every daring feat ; but this was a venture sufficient to 
make even him hesitate. He knew not who was the 
man at the capstan above. He was not sure that the 
rope would endure his weight. 

“ Oh,” said the castellan, “ if you are afraid to 
trust yourself to this cord, you must e’en return by 
the way you came. I thought other of Le Gros Guil- 
dem, of the famous Captain. I did not think he 
would quail as a girl from such a trifle as this. I 
will ascend first, and then you may pluck up heart to 
follow an old man.” 

The castellan went to the rope and shook it twice, 
then imitated the scream of an owl, and instantly 
planted himself on the pole and held the cord with 
both hands. He began at once to ascend. 

The sky cleared of thunder-cloud and the wan 
new moon illumined the scene. The rock was white, 
and against it mounted a dark figure .with a darker 
shadow. The windlass moved noiselessly; Le Gros 
Guillem and his men below heard no sound. The 
dark figure slid up the rock and became smaller, ever 


IN THE HAIL. 


237 


smaller, and then disappeared. In the uncertain 
light, at the great elevation they could not see, but 
supposed the castellan had passed through a window 
into the castle. 

Then rapidly down came rope and pole, and the 
latter hung swaying at a conple of feet above the hail- 
strewn platform. 

“ In the devil’s name, I will try it ! ” said Guil- 
lem, and committed himself to the bar. He grasped 
the rope and hooted. At the same moment the cat 
leaped and lighted on his shoulder. He would have 
thrust it off, but could not. The rope had tight- 
ened, was straining, and he was carried upwards off 
his feet. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


THE FOURTH TIME. 

The rock of Gageac somewhat overhung, so that 
as Le Gros Guillem ascended he swung clear in 
space. Only occasionally was there a projection 
against which he could apply his foot, but he avoid- 
ed doing this lest he should set the cord in oscilla- 
tion. 

The rope was so stout and the piece of wood on 
which he was seated so strong, that the momentary 
qualm that had come over his heart left it, and he 
felt naught save impatience to reach the castle and 
creep in at the window. Then his comrades would 
be drawn up and all four would fall on the sleeping 
garrison, kill every man, ring the tocsin, and the 
place would be in his possession, the houses given up 
to pillage and the inhabitants to outrage and murder. 
To win La Roque — a place that through the Hundred 
Years’ War had not been taken, that for three ceh- 
turies had defied the English — would indeed be an 

achievement, and one for which he could obtain any 
238 


THE FOURTH TIME. 239 

terms he liked to ask from the Earl of Shrewsbury 
on his arrival in Guyenne. 

The clouds were dispersing, Guillem looked up, 
the floor of Heaven was as it were spilt over with 
curds ; he looked down, every platform, roof, garden, 
was white with hail. On the horizon lightning was 
still fluttering. He had heard no thunder when be- 
low — he heard none now. 

The Dordogne flowed black through a white 
world. It did not reflect the sky to one rising so 
high in the air above it ; it was black as Acheron and 
seemed to have lost all flow — to be stilled in its course. 

The moon was still shining on the wall of rock, 
Guillem’s shadow passed with him, as substantial 
apparently as himself, undergoing strange, monkey- 
like contortions against the rocky inequalities. A 
curse on that cat ! It was wailing in his ear. He 
turned his chin to endeavour to force the brute from 
his shoulder. The cat clung with its thorn-like 
claws that pierced his jerkin. He disengaged a hand, 
and laid hold of the cat, but it bit and tore at his 
hand, it drove its claws into his neck, and he could 
not shake it off without tearing away ribbons of his 
flesh as well. 

His efforts to rid himself of the cat set the cord 
spinning, and the stick revolved, with him on it, and 
then spun back again ; it began to swing, and in 
swinging jammed him against the rock. 


240 


NOl&MI. 


He must make up his mind to endure the cat. It 
was but for a minute or two longer, and then he 
would be free, and would grasp the accursed brute 
and fling it down on to the houses beneath. A cat 
has nine lives. A cat will always fall on his feet. 
This puss must have more than nine lives if it 
escaped being dashed to pieces by such a fall. 

All was hushed below. 

Guillem, looking down, could see the black spots 
that he knew represented his three men who were to 
follow him. 

Something brushed his face — it was a sprig of 
juniper — he knew it by the scent ; and now he saw 
that he had reached that point where rock and wall 
were blended, the rock running up into ragged points, 
the gaps filled in with masonry, and finally courses of 
ashlar lying evenly above the rock. 

He was nearing the window. In another minute 
he would be inside. He could hear the creak of the 
windlass. His progress upwards seemed to him to be 
extraordinarily slow. One line of wallstone, then 
another, then a third, then a halt. 

He expected to be able to grasp the threshold of 
the window and to assist those within in drawing him 
through. But the window sill was some feet above 
his head ; it was beyond his reach. 

Why had those working the capstan ceased to 
turn the levers? Were they exhausted? Had they 


THE FOURTH TIME. 


241 

galled their hands ? Half a dozen turns and he would 
be aloft. 

At that moment, one of those inexplicable, un- 
reasonable sensations that do occasionally seize the 
imagination swept over the mind of Guillem. Look- 
ing at the limestone before him, he all at once 
thought it resembled the flesh of old Ogier del’ 
Peyra’s face as he was lowered into the oubliette, 
with the light from the dungeon door sitting on it. 
There was absolutely no similarity save that the rock 
was grey, and that it was illumined by the new moon 
with some such a colourless cadaverous light as that 
which had lighted the face of the man sentenced to a 
living tomb. 

Le Gros Guillem shook his head and closed his 
eyes to free himself from the impression. 

Immediately the cat, driving its claws into his 
neck under the right ear, sprang on his head, ran up 
the rope and leaped in at the window above. 

It was perhaps due to the fact that those working 
the capstan were frightened by the apparition of the 
beast ; but suddenly the rope was run out and Guillem 
dropped through space, to be brought up by a jerk as 
those above mastered the spokes and arrested the 
flight of the rope. 

As the falling man was stopped in his descent, the 
strands of the cord were strained and some snapped. 
The jerk would have thrown him from his seat had 


242 


NOfiMI. 


he not grappled the rope with desperation. He had 
not, however, dropped very far, and now to his great 
satisfaction he felt that the men above were again 
turning the levers, and that he was again being steadi- 
ly hauled upwards. When aloft he would chastise 
them sharply for their scare about a cat, risking 
thereby his valuable life. 

Again the juniper bush brushed his face, it was as 
an elfin hand which was thrust forth out of the rock 
to lay hold of him, or at least to warn him against 
further progress. Not a plant had been passed spring- 
ing out of the sheer cliff. This jumper grew at the 
summit of the rock, and at its junction with the ma- 
sonry of the castle. 

Much time had elapsed, surely more than an hour, 
since he had passed through the postern gate. His 
men, concealed in the vineyards, must be impatient 
for the signal to enter the town and plunder it. 

Then he heard a harsh, jarring sound like an an- 
gry growl, followed by the strokes of a bell. One — 
two — three — he reckoned till twelve. It was mid- 
night. 

Again he was ascending past the courses of ashlar, 
and again he was brought to a halt at some distance 
below the window. 

Then, from above, through the window a face pro- 
truded that looked down on him. The moon was on 
the face ; it was the colour of the grey rock ; it was 


THE FOURTH TIME. 


243 


blotched like the rock, it was furrowed with age like 
the rock. Unlike the rock, two eyes gleamed out of 
it, with the moon glinting in them. 

“ Gros Guillem ! ” said the man who peered on the 
freebooter from above. 

“ Draw me up ! ” gasped the Captain, “ or by ” 

“Do you threaten — you — situated as you are ? ” 

“ I pray you give the windlass another turn.” 

“ Ah, you pray now, Gros Guillem ! ” 

The Captain looked above his head at the face that 
overhung him. There was in it something that sent 
the blood back to his heart. There was in it that 
likeness to a someone, uncertain, recalled but uniden- 
tified, that came out now with terrible distinctness, 
and insisted on his straining his powers for recogni- 
tion. 

“ Gros Guillem ! do you remember me ? This is 
our final meeting — the fourth and the last ! ” 

At that moment the tocsin pealed forth its sum- 
mons from the tower. This tower, planted under a 
concave opening in the rock, sent out the ring of the 
alarm-bell multiplied thirtyfold below; it fiung it 
forth in volumes, it sent it up and down the Dor- 
dogne valley — across it — over the level land, far, 
far away, wave on wave of sound through the still 
night. 

At the first note it was as though a magic wand 
had touched every house in La Roque. Each window 


244 


no^:ml 


was illumined. Every door was opened, and forth 
burst men with torches, all fully armed. 

In a moment the three companions of the Captain 
on the platform and the two by the postern were sur- 
rounded, disarmed, bound or cut down. In a mo- 
ment, also, from orchards, vineyards, from out of 
barns, from behind hedgerows, rose a multitude of 
men, peasants, fishermen, soldiers of the Bishop, serv- 
ing-men, all with what weapons they could most 
readily handle, and closed in on the men of Guillem 
who had come forward at the note of the bell with 
purpose to enter by the postern. Then ensued on all 
sides a wild hubbub of cries, shrieks, shouts of tri- 
umph, curses, prayers for mercy. 

Le Gros Guillem, hanging in mid-air, heard the 
uproar, saw the upward glow of light, and knew that 
he and his had been drawn into a cleverly contrived 
trap, and that he was lost irretrievably. He writhed, 
he turned, he looked above — there he saw but the face 
of Ogier remorseless as fate. He looked below — there 
he saw his men, making desperate battle for life, and 
falling one by one. He could not distinguish each 
individual, but he saw knots of men forming whence 
issued cries and the clash of steel, then the knot broke 
up and its members dispersed seeking other clusters 
which they swelled, and whence issued the same cries 
and din of strife. 

Presently a great flare of fire rose from below and 


THE FOURTH TIME. 


245 


illumined the whole rock of Gageac. A torch had 
been applied to a bonfire of faggots ready stacked on 
the platform. By that glare those below saw the sus- 
pended Captain, and uttered a roar of hale and savage 
delight. In Guillem’s ears was a singing, and the 
growl of voices came in throbs like waves beating on 
his brain. 

From those below rose cries of, “ Cut the rope ! 
Cast him down ! We will receive him on our pikes. 
He shall fall into the fire ! ” 

Slowly the cable was let out, and Guillem felt him- 
self descending. He was glad that it was so. He de- 
sired to be in the midst of men, though these were 
his enemies ; for he had his sword at his side and he 
would die fighting, wounding others, killing those who 
sought his life. So to perish were a death befitting a 
soldier — this such a death as he would hail. He put 
his hand to his sword and grasped the hilt. His blood 
that had curdled in his arteries began to pulsate, the 
film that had formed over his eyes was dissipated, and 
a fiash of eager anticipation came into them. 

But again the rope ceased to be let out. He was 
suspended just half-way between the castle and the 
platform below, in full view of the townsmen who had 
gathered there, standing at a sufficient distance not to 
be struck by his falling body ; he was in view also of 
the little garrison of the castle who had clambered to 
the battlements and were looking over at him. 


246 


N0^1MI. 


Then he heard a hammering, and saw below men 
employed driving the pegs into the sockets in the rock, 
and fastening the wedges that held them firm. No 
sooner was the full connection made than up the stair 
ran men and even women, and boys who had scram- 
bled out of bed, and these stood in a line against the 
rock up the lengthy ladder-stair gazing at the sus- 
pended man. Then also from above the draw -bridge 
was lowered, and the men-at-arms who had been in the 
castle ran out of the gate and ran down the stair to 
have a better sight thence of the swinging, helpless 
man than they could from the battlements. 

A terrible spectacle it was that they witnessed — 
such a one as could not be looked on by Christian 
people unmoved save in such an evil age as that, when 
men were rendered ferocious as wild Indians and cal- 
lous to the sufferings of their brethren ; a spectacle 
such as could not be looked on without pity save in 
such a place as that where all had suffered in some 
degree from the exactions or the barbarities of this 
wretched man. The flames danced and curled as if 
they also frollicked at the sight of the agony of the man 
who had so often fed them with hard- won harvests of 
the peasantry, and the humble goods of the cottager 
too worthless to be carried away. 

In the glare of the leaping bonfire Le Gros Guillem 
was distinctly visible, looking like a monstrous yellow 
spider at the end of his line. He thrust out now one 


THE FOURTH TIME. 


24Y 


long leg, then another, next he extended his lengthy 
arms each armed with lean and bony fingers. He 
endeavoured to scramble into a standing position upon 
his bar, but failed — one side would descend before the 
other, and he nearly fell in attempting this impossible 
feat. He gripped the rope with hands and knees and 
endeavoured to swarm up it, but the cable was ren- 
dered slippery by its passage over a roller in the win- 
dow. 

Rage was in his heart, rage at being there a sight 
to men, women, and children, without power of 
spreading destruction about him before he died. 

Then he swung himself laterally, hoping to be 
able to reach a projection of rock whence possibly he 
might creep up or down, or even laterally from jutting 
point to point, holding by his fingers till he attained 
the stair. As he came swinging like a pendulum he 
was carried close to the stairway, and those upon it 
held their breath and drew back against the rock, 
thinking he would make a leap in attempt to light on 
the steps. Were he to do this, then to arrest himself 
from falling backwards, with his long fingers he would 
inevitably clutch at them, and so precipitate them 
along with himself below. 

Those persons standing on that portion of the 
steps within range sidled upwards or else downwards, 
to be out of the risk of such a danger. They could see 
in the upward flash of the firelight the sparkle in his 


248 


NOllMI. 


great eyes as he glared at the steps, calculating his 
distance, making resolve to leap, and his heart failing 
him or his judgment assuring him that to do so were 
certainly fatal. 

A tinkle of a little bell. The priest of S. Donat 
had hastily donned his surplice, and run and taken 
the Holy Sacrament, and was coming — he alone with 
a thought of mercy for the agonised, to obtain for him 
release, or to administer consolation in death. Before 
him went a boy with a lantern, ringing the bell. 

Then a loud voice from below cried : “ Cut the 
cable ! ” And then : “ It is I — Francis Bonaldi — I, the 
governor, say it. Enough ! Cut the cable ! ” 

A gasp from all that multitude. 

The cord had been chopped through before the 
priest arrived. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


A HELEBORE WREATH. 

The destruction of Le Gros Guillem’s body of 
men at La Roque Gageac was tbe prelude to the 
surrender of the citadel of Homme. The small 
garrison left in charge of that stronghold was panic- 
stricken when it heard the tidings from La Roque. 
The whole country was in arms. The citizens had 
marshalled in the square, and the soldiers, deserting 
the town, had taken refuge in the castle. Without 
head, without prospect of relief, hemmed in by the 
Bishop’s troops that arrived from Sarlat and La 
Roque on one side, menaced from Beynac, where 
was a royal garrison, on another, and from F^nelon 
on a third, where the baron was loyal to the French 
crown as well as a personal enemy of Guillem, the 
remnant of the Company that had acknowledged 
Guillem as Captain was fain to capitulate ; and the 
confederate troops under the governor of La Roque 
were content to accord terms, knowing the dauger of 

driving these freebooters to desperation. 

249 


252 




He bade them come to him, and promised to defray 
their expenses and to pay them for their services. 
This succeeded admirably ; he gathered about him 
fifteen hundred bassinets and more than two thousand 
comrades, all men greedy to live at the cost of others.” 
Very speedily this Company began its ravages. “ They 
rode about the country and pillaged on all sides. 
They attacked Feltramo, took it by storm and killed 
five hundred men. As the country round was rich 
they remained in Feltramo a month, ravaging it. 
During the period of these incursions the terror 
inspired by the Company made every castle in the 
neighbourhood surrender. Crowds of mercenaries 
who had finished their term of service flocked to 
Moriale, hearing exaggerated rumours of the great spoil 
gained by the Company, and many soldiers refused all 
engagements, saying that they would serve under this 
freebooter only.” 

Moriale observed the greatest exactitude in the 
distribution of the booty. Objects that had been 
stolen were sold by his orders, and he gave free passes 
to purchasers, so that by this means men who had 
been plundered might come to the fair he held 
and recover by payment the goods of which they 
had been despoiled. He instituted a treasurer, and 
had regular accounts kept of what was taken, and 
what prices were paid for things sold. He exacted 
as strict obedience as any feudal lord. He admin- 


A HELEBORE WREATH. 


253 


istered justice, and his judgments were invariably 
executed. 

It was not till long after the English domination 
had ceased, and which had furnished these ruffians 
with an excuse for their violence, that the plague of 
the Free Companies was put down. One of the very 
worst of all was that of the “ Ecorcheurs,” or Flayers, 
and had nothing whatever to do with the English. 
It was headed by Alexander de Bourbon, a mere boy, 
who had been given minor orders to enable him to 
hold a fat canonry. The Flayers professed “ that all 
the horrors hitherto committed from the beginning 
of the war would be but as child’s play compared to 
their exploits.” 

A great Council of Captains of Companies was held 
at Monde, in the Gevaudan, in 1435, when the soil of 
France, of Aquitaine, of Languedoc, of Provence was 
parcelled up among them, each having his region 
allotted him in which to plunder and work havoc. 

So long as the English held Aquitaine it was im- 
possible for the crown of France to control this terri- 
ble plague. Every baron, every little noble, as well 
as every great prince who found his liberty in the 
least touched, his misdeeds reproved, at once trans- 
ferred his allegiance to the English crown, and the 
English king was too far off, and too greatly in need 
of assistance, to be nice in choosing his partisans, and 
not to wink at their misdoings. 


254 


NOfiMI. 


The money that had been taken from Levi was 
restored by Jean del’ Peyra, but not without murmurs 
from those who had assisted in the capture of I’Eglise 
Guillem. The peasants could see the justice in sur- 
rendering every article recovered to the claimants who 
could establish their rights and show that they had 
been plundered of these objects. Even the book of 
the Chanson de Geste of Guerin de Montglane had 
found an owner. Most of the ecclesiastical goods had 
been restored to churches. Articles of clothing had 
been divided among those who had helped to take 
and destroy the vulture’s nest. This all seemed to 
them reasonable enough, but that so large a sum as a 
hundred livres should be surrendered to a dog of a 
Jew, solely because he had been despoiled of it — that 
was what they could not understand. If he had been 
robbed of the money it was well — Jews were made to 
be plundered. Equal justice was not due to those 
who had crucified the Christ. Jean, had however, 
been firm, and had held to his intention. Rather than 
irritate the peasants to rebellion against his decision, 
he surrendered to them his entire share in the spoil 
of the robber’s stronghold. 

The gratitude of the Jew at the unexpected re- 
covery of his money was profuse. Jean paid little re- 
gard to his demonstration. A year later and he had 
reason to congratulate himself on having done an act 
of justice, for Levi assisted him in the purchase of 


A HELEBORE WREATH. 


255 


the Seigneurie of Les Eyzies with it feudal strong- 
hold and the flourishing village at its feet. But this 
is an event of the future. We are concerned now 
only with what took place in the memorable winter 
that saw the destruction of the band of Le Gros Guil- 
lem, and that preceded the great battle of Castillon 
and the ruin of the English cause in Guyenne. 

Jean had become exceedingly anxious to obtain 
tidings of Noe mi. After the terrible death of her 
father, the butchering of his followers, the surrender 
of Domme, and the dispersion of the remainder of 
his band, he knew not what had become of her. 
She had relatives at La Roque — the Tardes — that he 
knew, and he was therefore satisfied that she was not 
homeless and destitute. But that anything out of 
the wreck of Le Gros Guillem’s accumulations had 
been preserved for her, he was doubtful. Who Guil- 
lem was, whence sprung, of what parents, no one 
knew. Whether he had any surname no one could 
say. Like many another Captain of the period he 
had escaped from the common mass of adventurers 
by the force of his abilities, by his superior power, by 
his daring courage. It had been so with that re- 
doubted soldier of fortune, “ Le petit Meschin,” * who 
from a scullion had risen to be the scourge of whole 
provinces, and to defeat and well-nigh exterminate a 


* “Picciolo servo fuggito, di oscura lugo nato.”— Villani. 


256 




royal army under a prince of the blood. Even rene- 
gade priests had headed bands of brigands and dis- 
tinguished themselves by their outrages of all laws 
human and divine. 

The “ Eglise Guillem ” in the rocks of the left 
hank of the V6z^re was no inheritance of the robber 
chief, but had been taken by him and occupied as a 
stronghold of his own, and none had dared to reclaim 
it and attempt to dislodge him, till the attack by the 
peasants that has been recorded. 

Jean felt that a painful obligation lay on him to 
see Noemi. Her father had met with a terrible death 
at the hands of his father, who had played with the 
wretched man as a cat with a mouse before he had 
cut the cord and precipitated him to his death. Le 
Gros Guillem had forfeited every right to command 
sympathy by his treatment of Ogier — in casting him 
down the oubliette and then by his treacherous at- 
tempt to have him murdered by his two men-at-arms. 
Nevertheless, he was Noemi’s father, and his mangled 
corpse lay between Jean and her, and across that and 
the terrible wrongs committed by the dead man 
and the revengeful execution the hands of Jean and 
Noemi could never meet. 

But the word of affiance had been spoken, and 
spoken solemnly, before many witnesses, and it had 
been sealed with the giving of a ring. Such a word 
could not be broken. In popular superstition it 


A HELEBORE WREATH. 


257 


bound even beyond the grave. Release could be had 
only by mutual consent and the restoration of the 
pledge. Jean rode to La Roque, full of trouble at 
heart. He loved Noemi, he greatly esteemed her. 
He saw in her a noble soul struggling to its birth with 
aspirations after something better than what she had 
known — gladly would he have taken her to be his, 
and helped this uncertain, restless, eager spirit to un- 
fold its wings, to break out of its shell, to look up and 
to soar into a pure atmosphere — but it might not be. 
The terrible shadow of Le Gros Guillem, the awful 
story of the past made this impossible. 

As he was nearing La Roque, he suddenly drew 
rein — he saw Noemi. She was seated on a mass of 
brown fallen leaves, and was plucking helebore 
flowers. Even that act struck Jean to the heart. 
“ She plays with poison — seeks out the noxious, the 
deadly,” he said. He feaped to the ground, and hold- 
ing the rein of his horse came to her. 

“ Noe mi, what are you doing ? ” 

“ I am making a chaplet for the grave of my 
father.” 

“ Of helebore ? ” 

“ What else suits ? Would you have it of the in- 
nocent flower of the field? On such he trampled. 
They call this the wolf’s flower — enfin ! It is a 
flower ! ” 

“ Notoi, do you know why I have come ? ” 


258 




She stood up, holding the half-finished wreath in 
her hands and looking down. She did not answer, 
tears filled her eyes and trickled over her cheeks. 

“Noemi,” said he gravely, “you recall that in- 
cident by the charcoal-burner’s lodge, that moment 
of terrible danger when the peasants, mad with re- 
venge and success and the blood of the wolves they 
had killed, would have torn you ” 

She did not answer. As she raised her hand with 
the helebore wreath, he saw that the ring was on her 
finger where he had placed it. 

“ I said what I did then, and I placed on your 
finger that ring, which is indeed your own — as you 
had entrusted it to me to show to your father — and I 
declared before all present that you were affianced to 
me. It was so.” 

She bowed her head. 

“ But, Noemi, you know that this can never, 
never be.” 

She looked up quickly, sadly at him. Her eyes 
were full of tears. 

Jean was deeply agitated. 

“ You must return me the ring — if only for the 
form’s sake, so as to undo the pledge and dissolve the 
engagement — I will give it back to you as a surrender 
of a loan — as nothing else.” 

She put her fingers to the ring and drew it off, and 
without a word offered it to him. 


A HELEBORE WREATH. 


259 


He took the ring and looked at it, doubtful what 
more to say. 

“ No6mi,” he asked, “ whose arms are these 
engraved on it ? They seem to me to belong to the 
Fenelon family.” 

“ Yes — they are the Fenelon arms.” 

“Was the ring ” He was about to ask if it 

had been stolen, but checked himself. 

“ It was my father’s ring,” she said in a low tone. 

“Your father’s! Was Le Gros Guillem a Fene- 
lon?” 

“ Le Gros Guillem ! Oh, no ! Do you not know 
and understand ? ” 

“ Know, understand what ? ” 

“ Le Gros Guillem was not really my father ; he 
carried off my mother from Fenelon, along with me 
when I was an infant in arms. Le Gros Guillem 
killed my father, who was the Baron de Fenelon. 
But I was a child and I was brought up at Domme. 
I knew nothing of that. Le Gros Guillem always 
treated me as his child and loved me as such, and I — I 
always called him and looked up to him as father.” 

“ Noemi — is this true? ” 

She gazed at him full in the face. “ I am no liar, 
Jean.” 

“Koemi, throw aside that helebore, open your 
arms. To my heart ! to my heart ! Take back the 
ring, all is well, is well. Mine for ever ! ” 


CHAPTEE XXVI. 


THE ELEVENTH CKOSS. 

Ogier del’ Petra had returned to Le Peuch 
Ste. Soure. His appearance greatly astonished the 
people, as his beard and moustachio had been shaved, 
and his hair, usually worn very thick and long, had 
been clipped close. So transformed was he in appear- 
ance that they could hardly recognise him. It was 
not till the story of the exploit of La Eoque had 
reached them in its entirety that this transformation 
was understood. 

Ogier would say nothing about what he had done. 
He relapsed into indifference and silence, and ap- 
peared morose and inaccessible. He took no interest 
in anything connected with his lands, none whatever 
in the great political events that ensued. 

On September 20th, 1452, John Talbot, Earl of 
Shrewsbury, disembarked on the coast of Medoc and 
entered Bordeaux on the 22d. Several small towns 
and fortresses surrendered. Then a large French 

army descended into Guyenne. On July 14th, 1453, 
260 


THE ELEVENTH CROSS. 


261 


the main body, under the command of the Count 
of Penthi^vre and the Admiral Jean de Bueil, en- 
camped at La Mothe-Montravel, and prepared to 
lay siege to Castillon that was held by the English. 
Talbot at once quitted Bordeaux, accompanied by be- 
tween eight hundred and a thousand horsemen, and 
followed by from four to five thousand foot soldiers. 
He arrived before Castillon on the 17th of July. 

At the approach of the English the French with- 
drew to their camp, and were followed by Talbot, who 
arrived breathless, his troops exhausted with a long 
march. Misinformed as to their numbers, believing 
that the French were retreating in alarm, without 
waiting to recruit his troops, the Earl of Shrewsbury 
resolved on storming the French camp. 

The mistake was fatal. Not only did the French 
army vastly outnumber his own, not only was it fresh, 
whilst his troops were fagged, but their camp was well 
chosen and well defended with artillery that played 
upon the English from every side with disastrous 
effect. The defeat was complete. Talbot and his 
gallant son fell, and their death has been immortal- 
ised by Shakespeare. Nor has the great dramatist 
failed to point out the cause of the failure — the dis- 
union among the English leaders. 

This memorable battle prepared the way for the 
final deliverance of Guyenne and of France, not from 
English arms only, but from the plague of the Free 


262 




Companies, which had grown and spread under the 
shadow of the English domination. At length the 
south — which as yet had not been in name even 
French — was absorbed into the kingdom, and partook 
of the benefits of union, and began to tingle with the 
lifeblood of the nation. 

Ogier del’ Peyra resigned all concern relative to 
his estates into the hands of his son, or rather the 
management was taken from him by Jean, because 
the old man could or would attend to nothing him- 
self. Whether his mind had been affected by his im- 
prisonment in the ouUiette, or whether the inactivity 
was constitutional, and when the necessity for exer- 
tion and the motive for revenge were passed he could 
no longer rouse himself to action, remained uncertain. 
He had expressed no surprise when Jean brought 
Noemi to Le Peuch as its mistress. He accepted 
whatever happened as a matter of course. 

For long he did absolutely nothing but. sit in the 
sun and bite pieces of twig and straw. If addressed, 
he replied only with a “ Yes ” or “ No,” and gave 
tokens of anno5^ance if anyone was persistent in forc- 
ing a conversation. Whether he was thinking of the 
past, or thinking of nothing at all, none could say. 
Most certainly he gave no thought to the future, for 
he made no provision for the morrow and left every- 
thing to Jean. 

At last he became feeble, and when feeble suddenly 


THE ELEVENTH CROSS. 


263 


took it into his head to absent himself for a good part 
of the day. 

On inquiry, Jean learned that he crossed the river 
taking with him a hammer and chisel ; and he was 
informed that the old man had been seen scrambling 
up the slope to the ruins of FEglise Guillem. One 
day, accordingly, Jean went after him, and on reach- 
ing the cave-habitation found his father seated on the 
floor engaged in chipping with his tools. 

“ What are you doing, father?” asked Jean. 

The old man did not answer with words, but 
pointed to the floor. He had been trimming into 
shapeliness the crosses that marked the lives taken at 
the storming of FEglise. 

“ But there are eleven, father,” said Jean, pointing 
to one larger than the rest, fresh cut. 

The old man nodded. “ For Le Gros Guillem,” 
he said. “ I killed him.” 


THE END. 


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